ia/\ 



THE HARVARD CLASSICS 

EDITED BY CHARLES W ELIOT LLD 

i 

THE COMPLETE POEMS OF 
JOHN MILTON 

WRITTEN IN ENGLISH 

- ' WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES 

^ AND ILLUSTRATIONS 




P F COLLIER & SON 
NEW YORK 



Cor 







f"?^' 



ta/ble of contents 

t 

/ PACE 

Poems Writtf^W at School and at ColleCxE, 1624-1632 

On the K/loRNiNG OP Christ's Nativity 7 

A Para phrase on Psalm CXIV 15 

Psalm /cxXXVI 16 

with f''^'' '^^^ Death op a Fair Inpant Dying op a Cough 18 
At a Vacation Exercise in the College, Part 

Latin, Part English 21 

The Passion 24 

On Shakespeare 26 

On the University Carrier 26 

Another on the Same 27 

An Epitaph on the Marchioness op Winchester . 28 
On His Being Arrived to the Age op Twenty- 
Three 30 

Poems Written at Horton, 1632-1638 

L' Allegro 31 

II Penseroso 35, 

Sonnet to the Nightingale 39 

Song on May Morning 40 

On Time 40 

At a Solemn Music 41 

Upon the Circumcision 42 

Arcades 43 

Comus, a Mask 46 

Lycidas 74 

Poems Written During the Civil War and the Pro- 
tectorate, 1642-1658 

When the Assault was Intended to the City . . So 

To A Virtuous Young Lady 80 

To the Lady Margaret Ley 81 

I 1 



■. ^ ^^ Copyright. rpoENTS 

ON THE JJETKACTION WHICH FOLLO ,,r 

ING Certain Treatises . . . '/vved upon my Writ- 



On the S^me I „ 

On the New Forcers of Conscien, ' 

Parliament , ce under the Long ^^ 

To Mr. H. Lawes on His Airs . ^ 

On the Religious Memory of Mrs. CA\ ''''"' 
/- T- If therine 1 hom- 

soN, MY Christian Friend, decease1|' r r r ^ 

On the Lord General Fairfax at i/' ^ ' ' 

I 'HE Siege of 



Colchester 

To the Lord General Cromwell, on th 



84 



^ ,T ^ - e Proposals 

OF Certain Ministers at the Com\ 

T, ^ mittee for 

THE Propagation of the Gospel ... „ 

To Sir Henry Vane the Younger .... " ' * « 

On the Late Massacre in Piemont 

On His Blindness '"^. 

To Mr. Lawrence 87 

To Cyriack Skinner 87 

To the Same 88 

On his Deceased Wife 88 

Paradise Lost, 1658-1663 

The First Book 89 

The Second Book no 

The Third Book 137 

The Fourth Book 157 

The Fifth Book 183 

The Sixth Book . . . . 206 

The Seventh Book 230 

The Eighth Book 246 

The Ninth Book .... 263 

The Tenth Book 294 

The Eleventh Book 322 

The Twelfth Book 345 

Paradise Regained, 1665-1667 

The First Book 363 

The Second Book 376 

The Third Book 388 

The Fourth Book 399 

Milton's Introduction to Samson Agonistes 416 

Samson Agonistes, 1667-1671 418 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

Among English men of letters there is none whose life and 
work stand in more intimate relation with the history of his 
times than those of Milton. Not only was he for a long period 
immersed in political controversy and public business, but there 
are few of his important works which do not become more sig- 
nificant in the light of contemporary events, and in turn help the 
understanding of these events themselves. It is evidence of this 
intimate relation, that the periods into which his life naturally 
falls coincide with the periods into which English history in the 
seventeenth century divides itself. The first of these extends 
from Milton's birth to his return from Italy, and corresponds 
with that period in the reigns of James I and Charles I during 
which the religious and political differences which culminated in 
the Civil War were working up to a climax. The second ends 
with his retirement into private life in 1660, and coincides with 
the period of the Civil War and the Commotiwealth. The third 
closes with his death in 16/4, and falls within the period of the 
Restoration. 

John Milton was born in Bread Street, London, on the ninth 
of December, 1608. He was the son of John Milton, a prosperous 
scrivener (i. e., attorney and law-stationer), a man of good family 
and considerable culture, especially devoted to music. In the 
education of the future poet the elder Milton was exceptionally 
generous. From childhood he destined him for the Church, and 
the preparation begun at home was continued at St. Paul's School 
and at Cambridge. We have abundant evidence that the boy was 
from the first a quick and diligent student, and the late study to 
which he was addicted from childhood was the beginning of that 
injury to his eyes which ended in blindness. He entered Christ's 
College, Cambridge, in 1625, took the degree of B. A. in i62g, 
and that of M. A. in 1632, when he left the University after seven 
years' residence. But the development of affairs in the English 
Church had overturned his plans, and the interference of Laud 
with freedom of thought and preaching among the clergy led 
Milton "to prefer a blameless silence before the sacred office of 
speaking bought with servitude and forswearing." So he retired 

3 



4 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

to his father's house at Horton in Buckinghamshire, and devoted 
the next six years to quiet study and the composition of a few 
Poems. 

In 163S Milton set out on a journey to Italy. After some days 
in Paris, he passed on by way of Nice to Genoa, Leghorn, Pisa, 
and Florence, in which last city he spent about two months in the 
society of wiPs and men of letters. After two months more 
spent in Rome, he visited Naples, and had intended to cros^ to 
Sicily and go thence to Greece, when rumors of civil war in 
England led him to turn his face homeward, ''inasmuch," he says, 
''as I thought it base to be traveling at my ea^se for intellectual 
culture while my countrymen at home were figliting for liberty." 
His ivritings produced abroad ivere all in Italian or Latin, and 
seem to have brought him considerable distinction among the 
Italian men of letters whom he met. 

Yet Milton did not plunge rashly into the political conflict. 
After he returned from the Continent, the household at Horton 
Zi'as broken up, and he zvent to London to resume his studies, 
and decide on the form and subject of his great poem. Part of 
his time was occupied i)t teachi)ig his two ncphcms, and after- 
zvard he took under his care a small number of youths, sons of 
his friends. In 1643 he married Mary Poivell, the daughter of 
an Oxfordshire Royalist. In about a month she left hitn and 
remained away for two years, at the end of ivhich time she sought 
and obtained a reconciliation. She died in 16^3 or 1634, leaving 
him three little daughters. 

The main occupation of his first years in London was contro- 
versy. Liberty zvas Milton's deepest passion, and in liberty zve 
sum up the theme of his prose zcritings. There are "three species 
of liberty," he says, "zchich are essential to the happiness of social 
life — religious, domestic, and civil," and for all three he fought. 
His most important prose works may, indeed, be roughly classed 
under these heads: under religious, his pamphlets against Epis- 
copacy; under donwstic, his zvorks on Education, Divorce, and 
the Freedom of the Press; under civil, his controversial writings 
on the overthrozv of the monarchy. In all of these he strove for 
freedom and toleration; and zvhen England became a Republic, 
he became officially associated zcith the nezv government as Secre- 
tary of Foreign Tongues, in zvhich capacity he not only conducted 
its foreign correspondence, but also acted as its literary adviser 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE 5 

and champion in the controversies by pamphlet that arose in con- 
nection with the execution of the King and the theory of the 
Commonwealth. It was in the midst of these activities that a 
great calamity overtook him. The defence of the late King had 
been undertaken by the famous Dutch Latinist Salmasius in a 
"Defemio Regis," and to Milton fell the task of replying to it. 
His eyesight, weakened even in childhood by overstudy, was now 
failing fast, and he was warned by physicians that it would go 
altogether if he persisted in this work. But to Milton the fight 
he had entered on was no mere matter of professional employ- 
ment as it was to his opponent, and he deliberately sacrificed what 
remained of him of light in the service of the cause to which he 
was devoted. The reply was a most effective one, but it left 
Milton hopelessly blind. With the aid of an assistant, however, 
he retained his oihce through the Protectorate of Cromwell, until 
the eve of the Restoration. 

Oliver Cromwell died in 1658, his son Richard succeeded him 
for a short time, and in 1660 Charles II was restored to the 
throne. To the last Milton fought with tremendous earnestness 
against this catastrophe. For, to him, it was indeed a catastrophe. 
The return of the Stuarts meant to him not only great personal 
danger, but, what was far more important, it meant the overthrow 
of all that he had for twenty years spent himself to uphold. It 
meant the setting up in government, in religion, and in society, 
of ideals and institutions that he could not but regard as the ex- 
treme of reaction and national degradation. Almost by a miracle 
he escaped personal violence, but he was of necessity forced into 
obscure retirement ; and there, reduced in fortune, blind, and 
broken-hearted, he devoted himself to the production of "Para- 
dise Lost" and "Paradise Regained." The great schemes which 
in his early manhood he had planned and dreamed over had for 
years been laid aside ; hut now at last he had a mournful leisure, 
and with magnificent fortitude he availed himself of the oppor- 
tunity. 

"Paradise Lo'st" had been begun even before the King's re- 
turn; in 1665 it was finished, and in 166/ the first edition appeared. 
"Paradise Regained" and ".Samson Agonistes" were published in 
J671. 

In iC>S7 Milton's second zvife. Catherine Woodcock, had died. 
For about seven years after, he lived alone with his three daugh- 

A UCJV 



6 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

ters, zvhom he trained to read to him not merely in English, but 
in Latin, Greek, Italian, French, Sl^anish, and Hcbrczv, though 
they did not understand a wQrd of what they read. What little 
we know of their relations to their father is not pleasant. They 
seem to have been rebellious and undutiful, though doubtless 
there was much provocation. In 1663 Milton took a third wife, 
Elizabeth Minshull, ivho did much to give case and comfort to 
his last years, and ivho long survived him. 

The retirement in which he lived during this third period, 
when public affairs seemed to him to have gone all wrong, wa>s 
not absolutely solitary. The harshness that appears in his con- 
troversial writings, and the somewhat unsympathetic austerity 
that seems to be indicated by his relations with his first wife and 
his children, are to be counterbalanced in our minds by the im- 
pression of companionableness that we derive from the picture of 
the old blind poet, sought out by many who not merely admired 
his greatness, but found pleasure in his society, and counted it a 
privilege to talk with him and read to him. Stern and sad he 
could hardly fail to be, but his old age was peaceful and not 
bitter. He died on November 8, 1674, and was buried in the 
Church of St. Giles, Cripplcgatc, London. 

In spite of Milton's association zvitli the Puritan party in the 
political struggles of his time, the common habit of referring to 
him as "the Puritan poet" is seriously misleading. The Puritans 
of the generation of Milton's father zvere indeed often men of 
culture and love of the arts, but the Puritans of the Civil IVar, 
the Puritan<s whom we think of to-day in our ordinary use of tJie 
term, were in general men who had not only no interest in art, 
but ivho regarded beauty itself as a temptation of the evil one. 
Even a slight sttidy of Milton's works ivih convince the reader 
that to this class Milton could never have belonged. Side by side 
with his love of liberty and his enthusiasm for moral purity — 
qualities in zvhich even then the Puritans had no monopoly — 
Milton zvas passionately devoted to beauty; and the reason zvhy 
his zvork survives to-day is not because part of it expre\sses the 
Puritan theology, but because of its artistic qualities — above all 
because it is at once more faultleS'S and more nobly sustained in 
music than that of any other English poet. 




THE POEMS OF JOHN MILTON 

WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND COLLEGE 

1 624-1 632 

ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY 
(1629) 



THIS is the month, and this the happy morn. 
Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, 
Of wedded maid and Virgin Mother born, 
Our great redemption from above did luring; 
For so the holy sages once did sing. 

That he our deadly forfeit should release, 
And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. 

II 

That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable. 
And that far-beaming blaze of majesty. 
Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high counsel-table 
To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, 
He laid aside, and, here with us to be. 

Forsook the Courts of everlasting Day, 
And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. 



Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 
Afford a present to the Infant God? 
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain. 
To welcome him to this his new abode. 
Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, 
7 



JOHN MILTON 

Il.illi Inok no print of tlir approaching light, 
And :ill llir sp;ui,L;lr(l host krrp walcli in squadrons 
hri-Iil? 

IV 

See how fiiun far npon (he Eastern road 
The slar-UMl Wisards hasic with odoin\s swectl 
Oil! rnn ; pri-viMil thrni willi Ihy hinnhle ode, 
And lay it K)\vly at his hlosscd feet; 
Have thou the honour fn-st thy Lord to greet, 

And join thy vf)ice unto the Angel (.hiire, 
From out his secret. aUar touched with hallowed fire. 



TiiK TTymn 
1 

Tt \va>^ the winter wild. 
W'liile the lu\i\-en horn eliild 
All meanly wrapt in the v\u\c manger lies; 
Nature, in awe to him, 
llad dolTed her gaudy trim, 
\\ith her great Master so to sytnpathi/e: 
Tt was no season then for her 
To w^anton with the Sun, her lusty Paratnour, 



Only with speeches fair 
She wo(is the gentle air 
To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, 
And on her naked shame, 
roUntc with sinful hlame. 
The saintly veil of maiden white to throw; 
Confounded, that her Maker's eyes 
ShouKl look so near upon her foul deformities. 



Bui he, her fears to cease. 
Sent down the meek-eyed Peace: 
She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding 



POEMS WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE S 

Down throii.!!;li the turning splicMX', 

His ready Harbinger, 
With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; 
And, waving wide her myrtle wand. 
She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. 

IV 

No war, or hattail's sound, 
Was heard the world around; 
The idle spear and shield were high uphung; 
The hooked chariot stood, 
Unstained with hostile blood; 
The trumpet spake not to tlu' aniird throng; 
And Kings sat still with awful eye, 
As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. 

V 

But peaceful was the night 
Wherein the Prince of Light 
His reign of peace upon the earth began. 
The winds, with wonder whist, 
Smoothly the waters kissed, 
Whispering new joys to the mi'ld Ocean, 
Who now hath f|uite forgot to rave, 
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 

VI 

The stars, with deep amaze, 
vStand fixed in steadfast gaze. 
Bending one way their precious influence. 
And will not take their flight, 
For all the morning light. 
Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; 
But in their glimmering orbs did glow. 
Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. 

VTI 

And. though the shady gloom 
Had given flay her room. 
The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed, 



10 JOHN MILTON 

And hid his head for shame. 

As his inferior flame 
The new-enlightened world no more should need: 
He saw a greater Sun appear 
Than his bright Throne or burning axletrce could bear. 

VIII 

The Shepherds on the lawn, 
Or ere the point of dawn, 
Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; 
Full little thought they than 
That the mighty Pan 
Was kindly come to live with them below: 
Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, 
Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. 



When such music sweet 
Their hearts and ears did greet 
As never was by mortal finger strook, 
Divinely-warbled voice 
Answering the stringed noise, 
As all their souls in blissful rapture took: 
The air, such pleasure loth to lose. 
With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly 
close. 

X 

Nature, that heard such sound 
Beneath the hollow round 
Of Cynthia's seat the airy Region thrilling, 
Now was almost won 
To think her part was done. 
And that her reign had here its last fulfilling: 
She knew such harmony alone 
Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union. 



At last surrounds their sight 
A globe of circular light, 



POEMS WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE 11 

That with long beams the shamefaced Night 
arrayed ; 
The helmed Cherubim 
And swordcd Seraphim 
Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, 
Harping in loud and solemn quire, 
With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's newborn Heir. 



XII 

Such music (as 't is said) 
Before was never made, 
But when of old the Sons of Morning sung, 
While the Creator great 
His constellations set, 
And the well-balanced World on hinges hung, 
And cast the dark foundations deep, 
And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. 



XIII 

Ring out, ye crystal spheres ! 
Once bless our human ears. 
If ye have power to touch our senses so; 
And let your silver chime 
Move in melodious time ; 
And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow ; 
And with your ninefold harmony 
Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. 



XIV 

For, if such holy song 
Enwrap our fancy long. 
Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold ; 
And speckled Vanity 
Will sicken soon and die. 
And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould ; 
And Hell itself will pass away. 
And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 



12 JOHN MILTON 



XV 



Yea, Tnith and Justice then 
Will down return to men, 
The etianielled arras of tlie rainhow wearing; 
And Mercy set between, 
Throneil in celestial sheen. 
With radiant feet the tissued clouds tlown steering; 
And Heaven, as at some festival. 
Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. 

XVI 

Rut wisest Fate says No, 
This must not yet be so ; 
The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy 
That on the bitter cross 
Must redeem our loss. 
So both himself and us to glorify: 
Yet first, to those ychained in sleep. 
The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through 
the deep, 

xvn 

With such a horrid clang 
As on Mount Sinai rang. 
While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake: 
The aged Earth, aghast 
With terror of that blast. 
Shall from the surface to the centre shake. 
When, at the world's last session. 
The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his 
throne. 

XVTTT 

And tlicn at last our bliss 

Full and perfect is. 
But now begins; for from this happy day 

The Old Dragon under ground, 

In straiter limits bound. 
Not half so far casts his usurped sway, 



POEMS WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE 13 

And, wroth to sec his Kingdom fail, 

Svvindges the scaly horror of his folded tail. 



The Oracles are dunih ; 
No voice or hideous hum 
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. 
Apollo from his shrine 
Can no more divine, 
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. 
No nightly trance, or breathed spell. 
Inspires the pale-eyed Priest from the prophetic cell. 



The lonely mountains o'er, 
And the resounding shore, 
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; 
From haunted spring, and dale 
Edged with poplar pale, 
The parting Genius is with sighing sent; 
With flower-inwoven tresses torn 
The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets 
mourn. 

XXI 

In consecrated earth. 
And on the holy hearth. 
The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; 
In urns, and altars round, 
A drear and dying sound 
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint; 
And the chill marble seems to sweat, 
Wliile each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat. 

XXII 

Peor and Baalim 
Forsake their temples dim. 
With that twice-battered god of Palestine; 
And mooned Ashtaroth, 
Heaven's Queen and Mother both, 



14 JOHN MILTON 

Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine: 
The Libyc Ilanunon shrinks his liorn ; 
In vain the Tyrian maids (heir woinuled Thanunuz 
mourn. 

xxm 

And sullen Moloeh, tied. 
Hath left in shadows dread 
His burniiij;- idol all of blackest hue; 
In vain with cymbals' ring 
They call the grisly king. 
In dismal dance about the furnace blue; 
The brutish gods of Nile as fast, 
Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste. 

XXIV 

Nor is Osiris seen 
In IMemphian grove or green. 
Trampling the unshowered grass with lowitigs 
loud ; 
Nor can he be at rest 
Within his sacred chest; 
Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; 
In vain, with timbreled anthems dark. 
The sable-stoled Sorcerers bear his worshiped ark. 



He feels from Juda's land 
The dreaded Infant's hand ; 
The rays of Bethlehem blinil his dusky eyn ; 
Nor all the gods beside 
Longer dare abide. 
Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: 
Our Babe, to show his Godhead true. 
Can in his swaddling bands control the dauuied crew. 

XXVI 

So. when the Sun in bed. 
Curtaineil with cloudy red. 
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, 



POEMS WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE 15 

'I'hc flocking shadows pale 
Troop to the infernal jail, 
Each fettered j(host slips to his several grave, 
And the yellow-skirted h'ays 

Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved 
maze. 



But see ! the Virgin blest 
Hath laid her Babe to rest, 
Time is our tedious song should here have ending: 
Heaven's youngest-teemed star 
Hath fixed her polished car. 
Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lanij) attcnrling; 
Anrl all about the courtly stable 
Bright-harnessed Angels sit in order serviceable. 



A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIV 
(1624) 

When the blest seed of Terah's faithful Son 
After long toil their liberty had won, 
And passed from Pharian fields to Canaanland, 
Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand, 
Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown, 
His praise and glory was in Israel known. 
That saw the troubled sea, and shivering fled, 
And sought to hide his froth-bccurled head 
Low in the earth ; Jordan's clear streams recoil, 
As a faint host that hath received the foil. 
The high huge-bellied mountains skij) like rams 
Amongst their ewes, the little hills like lambs. 
Why fled the ocean? and why skipped the mountains? 
Why turned Jordan toward his crystal fountains? 
Shake, Earth, and at the presence be aghast 
Of Him that ever was and aye shall last. 
That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush, 
And make soft rills from fiery fiint-stones gush. 



16 JOHN MII/rON 

PSALM ex. \ XVI 

Lkt lis with a gladsonio iiiiiid 
Traisf the Lord for lie is kiiuL, 

Vor his lucrcios nyv iMidtirc, 
Ever failhful, ever sure. 

Let lis hlazc his Naiiir ahroad, 
I'or of p^ods he is the God; 
h'or his, &e. 

( ) III lis his praisi'S tell. 
Thai dolli Ihe wralhful tyrants tjuell; 
h"(ir his, i\:e. 

'That with his iiiiraeles doth make 
Amazed Heaven and Earth to shake; 
lu)r Iiis, cle. 

That hy his wisdom (Hd create 
The painted lieavens so fnll of state ; 
Eor his, &c. 

'IMiat did the solid luartli ordain 
To rise ahove the watery [)lain; 
lM)r his, (!<:e. 

That hy his all-eommaiKhnij mif;ht. 
Did fill Ihe new made world witli lii^ht; 
h'or his, ^*^e. 

And eansed the golden tressed Snn 
All the day lonj;- his eonrse to run; 
h'or his, (!vc. 

Thi' liorned Moon to shine hy iiiqht 
Anioni^sl her spanj^led sisters hri^lit; 
For his, &c. 

lie, with his lluiiuler-elaspini;' hand. 
Smote the first horn of Egy[)t land; 
I'Vir his, &c. 



I'OKMS WIUrTKN AT SCHOOI. AND AT (',0LM'",(;K 17 

And, in (U-S])ik' of I'liar.-io fell, 
I \v lirmif^ht from tliciicc his Israel; 
I'Or his, ^c. 

TIic nuldy waves he cU'ft in twain 
Of the ICrythnean main ; 
iMir his, &.C. 

ilic Oofxls stood still, like walls of f^dass, 
While the Tfehrew hands did pass; 
h'or his, ^'C. 

I'.ul full soon Ihcy did devour 
The tawny Kinj; with all his power; 
h'or his, &c. 

TTis chosen people he did hh-ss 
In the vvasti'ful Wilderness; 
i''or his, &c. 

Tn hloody haltail he hrotifjhl down 
Kin^s of prowess and renown; 
i'"or his, &c. 

lie foiled hold Scon and his host, 
That rnled ihe Amorrean coast ; 
l""f)r his, Sic. 

And lart,'e limhed Op he did snhdne, 
With all his over-hardy crew; 
For his. SiC. 

And to his servaTit Israel 
TTe pave their land, therein to dwell; 
I'or his, ^'c. 

Mr Iialh, with a pileoiis eye, 
!'.( iicid ns in oiir misery ; 
I '"or his, Sic. 



18 JOHN MILTON 

And freed us from the slavery 
Of the invading enemy ; 
For his, &c. 

All living creatures he doth feed, 
And with full hand supplies their need; 
For his, &c. 

Let us, therefore, warble forth 
His mighty majesty and worth; 
For his, &c. 

That his mansion hath on high. 
Above the reach of mortal eye ; 

For his mercies aye endure, 
Ever faithful, ever sure. 



ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT 

DYING OF A COUGH 

(1625-26) 



O FAIREST Flower, no sooner blown but blasted, 
Soft silken Primrose fading timelessly. 
Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst outlasted 
Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry; 
For he, being amorous on that lovely dye 

That did thy cheek cnvermeil, thought to kiss 
But killed, alas ! and then bewailed his fatal bliss. 



For since grim Aquilo, his charioter, 
By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got. 
He thought it touched his deity full near. 
If likewise he some fair one wedded not, 
Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot 

Of long uncoupled bed and childless eld, 
Which, 'mongst the wanton gods, a foul reproach 
was held. 



POEMS WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE 19 

III 

So, mounting up in icy-pearled car, 
Through middle empire of the freezing air 
He wandered long, till thee he spied from far; 
There ended was his quest, there ceased his care: 
Down he descended from his snow-soft chair, 

But, all un'wares, with his cold-kind embrace, 
Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding-place. 



Yet thou art not inglorious in thy fate; 
For so Apollo, with unweeting hand. 
Whilom did slay his dearly-loved mate. 
Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand, 
Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land ; 

But then transformed him to a purple flower: 
Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power ! 



Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead. 
Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb, 
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed 
Hid from the world in a low-delved tomb ; 
Could Heaven, for pity, thee so strictly doom? 
Oh no ! for something in thy face did shine 
Above mortality, that showed thou wast divine. 

VI 

Resolve me, then, O Soul most surely blest 
(If so be it that thou these plaints dost hear) 
Tell me, bright Spirit, where'er thou hoverest, 
Whether above that high first-moving sphere, 
Or in the Elysian fields (if such there were), 

Oh, say me true if thou wert mortal wight. 
And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight. 

VII 

Wert thou some Star, which from the ruined roof 
Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall; 



20 JOHN MILTON 

Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof 

Took up, and in fit place did reinstall? 

Or did of late Earth's sons besiege the wall 

Of sheeny Heaven, and thou some Goddess fled 
Amongst us here below to hide thy nectared head? 

VIII 

Or wert thou that just Maid who once before 
Forsook the hated earth, oh ! tell me sooth, 
And earnest again to visit us once more ? 
Or wert thou [Mercy], that sweet smiling Youth? 
Or that crowned Matron, sage whitc-rol)cil Trutli? 

Or any other of that heavenly brood 
Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good ? 



Or wert thou of the golden-winged host. 

Who. having clad thyself in human weed. 

To earth from thy prefixed scat didst post. 

And after short abode fly back with speed. 

As if to shew what creatures Heaven doth breed; 

Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire 
To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heaven aspire? 



But oh ! why didst thou not stay here below 
To bless us with thy heaven-loved innocence. 
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe. 
To turn swift-rushing black perdition hence. 
Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence, 

To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart ? 
But thou canst best perform that oflice where thou art. 



Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child. 
Her false-imagined loss cease to lament, 
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild; 
Think what a itrcsent thou to God hast sent. 
And render him with patience what he lent : 



FORMS WRITTKN AT SCHOOI- AND AT COFJ.KGE 21 

'riiis if llioii (1(1, he will an o ff spriii}^'' ^ivo 
Tliat I ill llic" wiirM's last v\u\ shall iiiakr lliy name to 
live. 



AT A VACATION I'Al'.RCISl-. IN Till'. COT.T.ECiR, 

TART LATIN, PART I'NCI.ISII 

(i6.>.S) 

The Latin speeches ended, the English thus began : — 

IIaii,, Nalivc T.an[;ua},^o, that hy sinews weak. 
Didst move my first-endeavoiirinf^ tonj^ue to speak, 
And madest imperfeet words, with ehildish trips, 
Half iinpronounced. slide throuj^di my infant lips, 
Drivinfj dnnih Silenee from the portal door, 
Where he had mutely sat two years hefore: 
Heri- I salute thee, and thy pardon ask. 
That now T use thee in my latter task: 
Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee, 
I know my tonrjue hut little grace can do thcc. 
Thou need'st not he amhitious to he first, 
Relieve nu-, [ have thither packed the worst: 
And, if it hai)i)en as 1 did forecast. 
The daintiest dishes shall he served up last. 
T pray thee then deny me not thy aid, 
For this same small neglect that I have made; 
Rut haste thee straijijht to do lue once a pleasure. 
And from thy wardrohe hrinp; thy chieftcsl treasure; 
Not those new-fan.tjied toys, and Irinmiiii!^ sliji^ht 
Which takes our late fantastics with dclit^ht; 
l'>ut cull those richest rohes and jt^ayest attire. 
Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire. 
I have some naked thou;:;hts that rove al)f)nt, 
And lf)ndly knock to have their passapje otit, 
And, weary of their place, do only stay 
Till thou hast decked them in thy host array; 
That so they may. without suspect or fears, 
Fly swiftly to this fair Assemhly's ears. 
Yet I had rather, if 1 were to choose, 
B ne IV 



22 JOHN MILTON 

Thy service in some .t;i"avor snhjeot use. 

Such as may make thee scarcli Ihy eolVers romul. 

Hefdre thou clothe my fancy in fit somul : 

Sucli where the deep transporled mind may soar 

Aliove liie wheeHn"' poles, and at Heaven's door 

Look in, and sec each hlissful Deity 

How he before the thunderous throne dolh lie. 

T.isteniui; to what unsliorn Apollo sinews 

To the touch of i;-oUlen wires, while llehe hrinj^s 

Innnortal nectar to her kindly Sire; 

Then, passinj:;- throu_qh the spheres of watchful fire. 

And misty regions of wide air next under, 

And hills of snow and lofts of piled thunder. 

May tell al length how j^reen-cyed Neptune raves. 

In heaven's defiance nmsterinj>' all his waves; 

Then sinjj of secret things that came to pass 

When hcldam Nature in her cradle was; 

And last of Kings and Queens and lleroes old, 

Such as the wise nemodocus once lold 

In solenm songs at king Alcinoiis' feast, 

While sad Ulysses' soul and all the rest 

.Are helil, with his melodious h;irniony, 

In willing chains and sweet captivity. 

Hut Cw. my wandering Muse, how thou dost stray! 

l"".\pectauce calls thee now another w.ay. 

Thou know'st it uuisl he now thy oidy l>ent 

To keep in compass of thy Predicament. 

Then (juick about thy purposed business come, 

That to the next 1 may resign my room. 

Then Ens is represented as Father of the rretiieanients, his ten 
Sons: 'iVhereof the eldest stood for Suhstanck ■n'ilh his Canons; 
7('/mV/» F.ns. thus slyeak'ing. ext>lains: — 

Good luck befriend thee, son : for at thy birth 

The faery Ladies danced upon the hearth. 

The drow.sy Ntu-se hath sworn she did them spy 

Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie. 

And, sweetlv singing roimd about thy bed. 

Strew all their blessings on thy slci^ping head. 

She 111 ard them give thee tliis, tlial thou shouldst still 



I'OliMH WRITTKN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE 23 

I'^rom eyes of mortals walk invisible. 

Yet there is something that doth force my fear; 

For once it was my dismal hap to hear 

A Sibyl old, bow-hcnt with crooked age, 

7'hat far events full wisely could presage, 

And, in Time's long and dark prospective-glass, 

Forfsaw what future days should bring to pass. 

" Your Son," said she, "(nor can you it prevent,) 

Shall subject be to many an Accident. 

O'er all his Brethren he shall reign as King; 

Yet every one shall make him underling, 

And those that cannot live from him asunder 

Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under. 

In worth and excellence he shall outgo them; 

Yet, being above them, he shall be below them. 

I'Vom others he shall stand in need of nothing, 

Yet on his Brothers shaJl depend for clothing. 

To find a foe it shall not be his hayj, 

And peace shall lull him in her flowery lap; 

Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door 

Devouring war shall never cease to roar; 

Yea, it shall be his natural property 

To harbour those that are at enmity." 

What power, what force, what mighty spell, if nfit 

Your learnerl hands, can loose this Gordian knot? 

The next, Qt;ANTiTy and Quality, spake in prose: then Relation 
was called by his natnc. 

Rivers, arise: whether thou be the son 

Of utmost Tweed, or Ouse, or gulfy Dun, 

Or Trent, who, like some earth-born Giant, spreads 

Mis thirty arms along the indented meads. 

Or sullen Mole, that runneth underneath. 

Or Sevren swift, guilty of maiden's death, 

Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lea, 

Or coaly Tyne, or ancient hallowed Dee, 

()r H umber loud, that keejjs tlie Scythian's name, 

Or Medway smooth, or royal-towered Thame. 

7'/u' ft'it ivai prose. 



24 JOHN MILTON 

THE PASSION 
(1630) 



Erkwitii-E of music, ntul otheroal mirth. 
Wherewith the stag;c of Air and Earth (\'n\ ring, 
And joyous news of heavenly Infant's hirth, 
My nuisc with Angels did divide to sing; 
But headlong joy is ever on the wing, 

In wintry solstice like the shortened light 
Soon swallowed up in dark and long outliving night. 



For now to sorrow must I tune my song, 
And set my Harp to notes of saddest woe, 
Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long, 
Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than so, 
Which he for us did freely undergo: 

Most perfect Hero, tried in heaviest plight 
Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight! 



He, sovran Priest, stooping his regal head, 
That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes, 
Poor fleshly Tabernacle entered. 
His starry front low-roofed beneath the skies : 
Oh, what a mask was there, what a disguise I 

Yet more : the stroke of death he must abide ; 
Then lies him meekly down fast by his Brethren's 
side. 

IV 

These latest scenes confine my roving verse; 
To this horizon is my Phccbus boimd. 
His godlike acts, and his temptations fierce. 
And former sufferings, otherwhere are fouml ; 
Loud o'er the rest Cremona's trump doth sound: 

Me softer airs befit, and softer strings 
Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things. 



POEMS WRITTEN AT SCHOOL AND AT COLLEGE 25 



Befriend mc, Ni^lil, I)c,st Patroness of jjjricf! 

Over the pole thy thickest mantle throw, 

And work my flattered fancy to belief 

That Heaven and Earth are coloured with my woe; 

My sorrows are too dark for day to know: 

The leaves should all be black whereon I write, 
And letters, where my tears have washed, a wannish 
white. 

VI 

See, see the chariot, and those rushinj^ wheels, 
That whirled the prophet up at Chebar flood; 
My spirit some transporting; Cherub feels 
To bear me where the Towers of Salem stood. 
Once glorious towers, now sunk in guiltless blood. 

There doth my soul in holy vision sit. 
In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit. 



Mine eye hath founcl that sad sepulchral rock 
That was the casket of Heaven's richest store, 
And here, though grief my feeble hands up-lock, 
Yet on the softened quarry would I score 
My plaining verse as lively as before ; 

For sure so well instructed are my tears 
That they would fitly fall in ordered characters. 

VIII 

Or, should I thence, hurried on viewless wing, 
Take up a weeping on the mountains wild. 
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring 
Would soon unbosom all their Echoes mild; 
And I (for grief is easily beguiled) 

Might think the infection of my sorrows loud 
Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant clond. 

This Subject the Author fiudinn to be above the years he hud when 
he 7vrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it 
unfinished. 



26 JOHN MIl/rON 

ON SHAKESPEARE 
(1630) 

What needs my Shakcspoaro, for his IuiiidiuchI hones, 
The labour of an age in piled stones ? 
Or that his hollowed relies should he hid 
Ihuler a star ypoiutiny pyramid? 
Dear son of Memory, great heir of h'ame, 
What neeil'st thou sueh weak witness of thy name? 
Thou, in our wonder ami astonishment, 
Hast built thyself a liveUmg monument, 
b'or whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, 
riiy easy numbers How, and that eaeh heart 
Hath, from the leaves of thy imvalued book. 
Those Helphie lines with deep impression took; 
Then thou, om^ faney of itself bereaving, 
Host make us marble, with too imieh et)neeiving; 
And. so sepidehred, in sueh pomp dost lie. 
I'hal kirn's for sueli a tomb woulil wish to ilie. 



ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER 

IVIto sickriiiil in llw time of his I'aroncy. bciii\: forbui to go to 
LonJoii by n'osoii of the Phii^iu'. 

(163T) 

Hkkk lies old Hobson. Death hath broke his girt. 

And lure, alas! bath laid him in the dirt; 

Ov else, the ways being foul, twenty to one 

lie's here sttiek in a slough, and overthrown. 

"P was sueh a shifter that, if truth were known. 

Death was half glad when he had got him ilown ; 

For he had any time this ten years full 

Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and 77u' Bull. 

Ami surely Death could never have prevailed. 

Had not his weeklv eou.rse of carriage failed; 

Uut lately, finiling him so long at home. 

And thinkitig now his journey's end was come, 

And that he had ta'en up his latest Inn, 



rOEMS WllITTEN AT SCHOOL ANIJ AT COLLKGK 27 

111 (Ik- kind ufficc of a (Jliatiiberlin 

Sliowcd Iiim Ills room where he must lod^je (liat ii^iht, 

I 'idled (j(T his bo(jls, and look away the liK''!. 

If any ask for him, it shall he said, 

"llohsoii has supped, and 's newly ^owv to bed." 



ANOTIIICK ON Till'; SAMI-; 

lli.UK lielli one who did most truly prove 

That he could never die while he could move; 

So hmifj his destiny, never to rot 

While he mi}(ht still jog on and keep his trot; 

Made of sphere-metal, never to decay 

Until his revolution was at stay. 

Time numbers Motion, yet (without a crime 

'daiiist (jid Irntli) Motion nmiibered out his lime; 

And, like an eiij^ine moved with wheel and weight, 

His principles being ceased, he ended straight. 

Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death. 

And too much breathing put him out of breath ; 

Nor were it contradiction to afiirm 

Too long vacation hastened on his term. 

Merely to drive the time away he sickened, 

r'ainted, and died, nor would with ale be <pii(kened. 

" Nay," quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretched, 

" If I may n't carry, sure I 'II ne'er be fetched, 

Hut vow, though the cross Doctors all stfjod hearers, 

For one carrier put down to make six bearers." 

Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge; right, 

lie died for heaviness that his cart went light. 

llis leisure told him (hat his time was come, 

And lack of loafl made his life burdensome. 

That even to his last breath (there be that say '(), 

As he were pressed to death, he cried, " More weight !' 

Hut, had his doings lasted as they were, 

I le had l)een an immortal Carrier. 

Obedient to the moon he spent his date 

In course reciprocal, and had his fate 

Linked to the mutual ibjwing of the seas; 



28 .lOIlN MII/rON 

N'cl (sli.iiijM' In tliiiiU) lii;. \v;iiii vv.is liis iiicioaso. 
llis Iclliis arc dclivrird all iiiui j;oiU' ; 
()iilv ii'inaiiis llii;. supi'i srriplidii. 



AN I'.rirAiMi ON rill': makciiionicss 

()!-' VVINCIII'.Sri'.K 

Til IS rifli inaiMf dolli iiilrr 
I'lir iKtnoiircd wile nl Wiiulu'stir, 
A visi'diiiil's daiirjili-f. an caiTs lu-if, 
Ui'si<lrs vvlial lu-r virlin's lair 
Addi'd ti» luM- iiolik' hiitli. 
Mdif llian sill' roiild own from t";irtli. 
Sinniiuis lime times rii;lil save line 
Sill- had lold ; alas ! too soon, 
A lln so slitui tiiiu- of Itreatli, 
To lioiiM' willi darkiu'sr. ,iiid willi <K'alli ! 
\\\. had Ihf iiiiimIui oI Iut da\s 
IUtii as (■omplt'lc as was In r praise, 
Nature and I'.ile had iiad no strife 
In j;ivinj; limit to her life. 
Iler liii;li hirtli and her j;r;iees sweet 
(Jnieklv found a lover nu-et ; 
The villain (|iiii(' foi her ro(iuest 
The <^o{\ th.it sits at marri.aj'e feast ; 
I le ,il their invoUint; eame, 
IWit witii .1 searee well iij^hted llame; 
And in his garland, as he stood, 
^'e miL;lit diseern a eypiess Imd. 
Oiiee had the early Mali'ons run 
To ^;reet her of a lovely son. 
And now with seeoiid hope she qoes. 
And ealis I.neiiia to her lliroes; 
Hut. wheliier hv misehanei' or hiame, 
Atropos for l.neina eanie. 
Ami with riMiiorseli'ss erueltv 
Spoile»l at oiue holli fruit and tree. 
The hajiless hahe lu-fon- his hirlli 
I hul buiial, yet not laiil in earth; 



I'OKMS WIMiri'lN AT SCIIOOl, AND AT CUl.LEUli 2'J 

And llu- l;iMj;iiislicil iiiollici 's vvuiiil) 

Was not loii^ ;i living Idiiil). 

So have I seen sonic (cndci slip, 

Saved willi care from VVinlci's nip, 

llu- pride of her cariialion train, 

I'Incked ii|t liy soiiie iinlieedy swain, 

Who only lhonj;lil lo crop Ihe llower 

Ni'w shot lip from vernal shower; 

\'>\\\ the fair hlossom lianas the head 

Sideways, as on a dyiiij; hed, 

And those pearls of dew she wears 

I 'rove to he presaj;in>^ tears 

Whicli the sad morn had Id f;dl 

On her liasleiiiiij^' funeral. 

(ieiille Lady, may thy j^jravc 

Peace and <|iiiet ever have! 

After this thy travail sore, 

Sweet rest seize thee evermore, 

That, to j,Mve the world enerease, 

Slidi Idled hast thy own life's lease I 

llcir, hesides the sf)rrowiii>^' 

Tlial thy iiolilc I |oiis<' dolli hi iiif;, 

llere he tears of perfect iiiuaii 

Weepl for thee in I Iclicoii ; 

And sf)iiie flowers and some hays 

I'or thy hearse, to strew the ways, 

Sent thee froiM the hanks of Came, 

Devoted to Illy virtuous name; 

Whilst Ihon, hri^dit Saint, hif^jli sitl'sl in |dr)ry, 

Next her, imirh like to thee in story, 

That fair Syrian Shepherdess, 

Who after years of harr<iinesH, 

'\'\u: hit,ddy favoured jose])h horc 

To him that served for her hefore, 

And at her next hirth, much hUv. thee, 

Throiij:;!] paii^js (led to felicity, 

Far within the hosom hri/i^ht 

f)f hlazinj,j Majesty and Lij,,dit: 

There with thee, new welcome Saint, 

Like fortunes may her soul accjuaint. 



30 JOHN MILTON 

With thee there clad in radiant sheen, 
No Marchioness, but now a Queen. 



ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE 
AGE OF TWENTY-THREE 

(1631) 

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth. 
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year ! 
My hasting days fly on with full career. 
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. 

Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth. 
That I to manhood am arrived so near. 
And inward ripeness doth much less appear, 
That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th. 

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, 
It shall be still in strictest measure even 
To that same lot, however mean or high. 

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven, 
All is, if I have grace to use it so, 
As ever in my great Task-master's eye. 



POEMS WRITTEN AT HORTON 

1632-1638 

L'ALLEGRO 
(1633) 

HENCE, loathed Melancholy, 
Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born. 
In Stygian cave forlorn 
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights 
unholy, 
Find out some uncouth cell, 

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous 
wings. 
And the night-raven sings ; 

There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks, 
As ragged as thy locks, 

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 
But come, thou Goddess fair and free, 
In heaven yclep'd Euphrosyne, 
And by men, heart-easing Mirth, 
Whom lovely Venus at a birth 
With two sister Graces more 
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ; 
Or whether (as some sagcr sing) 
The frolic Wind that breathes the spring, 
Zephyr with Aurora playing, 
As he met her once a-Maying, 
There on beds of violets blue, 
And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, 
Filled her with thee, a daughter fair. 
So buxom, blithe and debonair. 

Haste thee. Nymph, and bring with thee 
Jest and youthful Jollity, 
31 



32 JOHN MILTON 

Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, 
Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, 
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
And love to live in dimple sleek; 
Sport that wrinkled Care derides. 
And Laughter holding both his sides. 
Come, and trip it as ye go, 
On the light fantastic toe ; 
And in thy right hand lead with thee 
The mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty; 
And, if I give thee honour due. 
Mirth, admit me of thy crew, 
To live with her, and live with thee. 
In unrcproved pleasures free ; 
To hear the lark begin his flight, 
And singing startle the dull night. 
From his watch-tower in the skies. 
Till the dappled Dawn doth rise ; 
Then to come, in spite of sorrow. 
And at my window bid good-morrow, 
Through the sweet-briar or the vine. 
Or the twisted eglantine ; 
While the cock with lively din 
Scatters the rear of Darkness thin ; 
And to the stack, or the barn-door, 
Stoutly struts his dames before : 
Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
Cheerly rouse the slumbering Morn, 
From the side of some hoar hill, 
Through the high wood echoing shrill: 
Sometime walking, not unseen, 
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green. 
Right against the eastern gate. 
Where the great Sun begins his state. 
Robed in flames and amber light. 
The clouds in thousand liveries dight; 
While the ploughman, near at hand. 
Whistles o'er the furrowed land. 
And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 
And the mower whets his scythe, 



POEMS WRITTEN AT HOKTON 33 

And every shepherd tells his tale 
Under the hawthorn in the dale. 

Straight mine eye hath cauglit new pleasures, 
Whilst the lantskip round it measures: 
Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 
Where the nibbling flocks do stray; 
Mountains on whose barren breast 
The labouring clouds do often rest; 
Meadows trim with daisies ])ied ; 
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. 
Towers aiul battlements it sees 
Bosomed high in tufted trees. 
Where perhaps some Beauty lies. 
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes 
From betwixt two aged oaks. 
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met 
Are at their savoury dinner set 
Of hearbs and other country messes. 
Which the neat-handed I'hillis dresses; 
And then in haste her bower she leaves, 
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; 
Or, if the earlier season lead. 
To the tanned haycock in the mead. 

Sometimes with secure delight 
The upland hamlets will invite. 
When the merry bells ring round. 
And the jocond rebecks sound 
To many a youth and many a maid 
Dancing in the chequered shade ; 
And young and old come forth to play 
On a sunshine holyday, 
Till the livelong daylight fail : 
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 
With stories told of many a feat. 
How fairy Mab the junkets eat: 
She was pinched and pulled, she said; 
And he, by Friar's lanthorn led, 
Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat 
To earn his cream-bowl duly set, 



c 



34 JOHN MILTON 

When in one nij^lit, ere j^'limpse of morn, 

His shadowy Hail hath threshed the corn 

'riial ten day-lahourers could not end; 

Then lies him down, the lubhar fend, 

And, stretched out all the chinmey's lenj^th, 

Rasks at the fire his hairy strenj^th, 

And crop-full out of doors he llinj^s, 

iue the first cock his matin rint^s. 

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 

By whispering:; winds soon lulled asleep. 

Towered cities please us then, 

And the busy hum of men, 

Where throngs of Knights and IJarons 1h>1i1 

In weeds of peace, high triimii)lis hold. 

With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes 

Rain inlluence, and judge the prize 

Of wit or arms, while both contend 

To win her grace whom all coninuiid. 

There let Hymen oft appear 

In saffron robe, with taper clear. 

And pomp, and feast, and revelry. 

With mask and antique pageantry; 

Such sights as youthftd Poets dream 

On sununer eves by haunted stream. 

Then to the well-trod stage anon, 

If Jonson's learned sock be on. 

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, 

Warble his native wood-notes wild. 

And ever, against eating cares, 

Tap me in soft Lydian airs. 

Married to immortal verse. 

Such as the meeting soul may pierce. 

In notes with many a winding botit 

Of linked sweetness long drawn out 

With wanton heed and giddy cimning, 

The melting voice through mazes rnmiing. 

Untwisting all the chains that tie 

The hidden soul of harmony ; 

That Orpheus' self may heave his head 

I''rom goUlen slumber on a bed 



POEMS WRITTEN AT IIOIITON 35 

()!' iK'fipcd ICIysiaii flovviM-s, and lu-ar 
Such strains as would have wun the car 
Of Pluto to have (|uitf set free 
His half-refjjained Eurydice. 
H'hese delifjhts if thou canst give, 
Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 



IL PENSEROSO 
(1633) 

1 Iknik, vain deludinjr Joys, 

The hrood of l'\)lly vvitliont father hrcd ! 
How little you hested. 

Or fdl the fixed niiiid with all yoin- toys! 
Dwell in some idle hrain, 

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes jKissess, 
As thick and njunherless 

As the gay motes that people the siniheams, 
Or likest hovering dreams, 

The (ickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 
lUit hail! thou Ooddess sage and holy! 
Hail, divincst Melancholy ! 
Whose saintly visage is too hright 
To hit the sense of human sight, 
And therefore to our weaker view 
O'erlaid with hlaek, staid Wisdom's hue; 
P>lack, hut such as in esteem 
Prince Memnon's sister might hesccm. 
Or that starred I'^thiop Oueen that strove 
To .set her heauty's praise ahove 
The .Sea-Nymphs, antl their powers offended. 
Yet thr)u art higher far descended : 
Thee hright-haired Vesta long of yore 
To solitary Satm-n hore; 
His daughter she; in Saturn's reign 
.Such mixture was not held a stain. 
Oft in glinmiering howcrs and glades 
He met her, and in secret shades 
Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 



36 JOHN MILTON 

Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. . 

Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, 

Sober, steadfast, and demure, 

All in a robe of darkest grain, 

Flowing with majestic train, 

And sable stole of cypress lawn 

Over thy decent shoulders drawn. 

Come ; but keep thy wonted state, 

With even step, and musing gait. 

And looks commercing with the skies, 

Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : 

There, held in holy passion still, 

Forget thyself to marble, till 

With a sad leaden downward cast 

Thou fix them on the earth as fast. 

And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, 

Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet. 

And hears the Muses in a ring 

Aye round about Jove's altar sing; 

And add to these retired Leisure, 

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; 

But, first and chieftest, with thee bring 

Him that yon soars on golden wing, 

Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 

The Cherub Contemplation ; 

And the mute Silence hist along, 

'Less Philomel will deign a song, 

In her sweetest saddest plight. 

Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 

While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke 

Gently o'er the accustomed oak. 

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, 

Most musical, most melancholy! 

Thee, Chauntress, oft the woods among 

I woo, to hear thy even-song; 

And. missing thee. I walk unseen 

On the dry smooth-shaven green. 

To behold the wandering Moon, 

Riding near her highest noon. 

Like one that had been led astray 



POEMS WRITTEN AT HORTON 37 

Through the heaven's wide pathless way. 
And oft, as if her head she bowed, 
Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 
Oft, on a plot of rising ground, 
I hear the far-off curfew sound, 
Over some wide-watered shore. 
Swinging slow with sullen roar; 

LOr, if the air will not permit, 

Some still removed place will fit. 

Where glowing embers through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 

Far from all resort of mirth, 

Save the cricket on the hearth, 

Or the Bellman's drowsy charm 

To bless the doors from nightly harm. 

Or let my lamp, at midnight hour. 

Be seen in some high lonely tower. 

Where I may oft outwatch the Bear, 

With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere 

The spirit of Plato, to unfold 

What worlds or what vast regions hold 

The immortal mind that hath forsook 

Her mansion in this fleshly nook ; 

And of those Dsemons that are found 

In fire, air, flood, or underground. 

Whose power hath a true consent 

With planet or with element. 

Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy 

In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 

Presenting Thebs, or Pelops' line. 

Or the talc of Troy divine. 

Or what (though rare) of later age 

Ennobled hath the buskined stage. 

But, O sad Virgin ! that thy power 

Might raise Musseus from his bower; 

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 

Such notes as. warbled to the string, 

Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek. 

And made Hell grant what Tove did seek; 

Or call up him that left half-told 



38 JOHN MILTON 

The story of Canihuscati hold. 

Of Caiuhall, and of Alsijarsife, 

And who had Canace to wife, 

That owned the virtuous ring^ and glass, 

And of the wondrous horse of hrass 

On which the Tartar King did ride ; 

And if aught else great Bards beside 

In sage and solemn tunes have sung, 

Of turneys, and of trophies hung, 

Of forests, and inchantments drear. 

Where more is meant than meets the ear. \ 

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 

Till civil-suited Morn appear, 

Not tricked and frounced, as she wont 

With the Attic boy to hunt. 

But kerchieft in a comely cloud. 

While rocking winds are piping loud, 

Or ushered with a shower still. 

When the gust hath blown his fill, 

Ending on the rustling leaves. 

With minute drops from off the eaves. 

And, when the sun begins to fling 

His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring 

To arched walks of twilight groves. 

And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, 

Of pine, or monumental oak. 

Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 

Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt. 

Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. 

There, in close covert, by some brook. 

Where no profaner eye may look, 

Hide me from Day's garish eye. 

While the bee with honeyed thigh. 

That at her flowery work doth sing, 

And the waters murnniring. 

With such consort as they keep, 

Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep. 

And let some strange mysterious dream. 

Wave at his wings in airy stream, 

Of lively portraiture displayed, 



L 



POEMS WRITTEN AT HORTON 39 

Softly on my eyelids laid. 

And as I wake, sweet music breathe 

Above, about, or underneath, 

Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, 

Or the unseen Genius of the wood. 

But let my due feet never fail 

To walk the studious cloister's pale, 

And love the high embowed roof. 

With antick pillars massy proof. 

And storied windows richly dight, 

Casting a dim religious light. 

There let the pealing organ blow. 

To the full voiced Quire below, 

In service high and anthems clear, 

As may with sweetness, through mine ear. 

Dissolve me into ecstasies, 

And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. 

And may at last my weary age 

Find out the peaceful hermitage, 

The hairy gown and mossy cell. 

Where I may sit and rightly spell, 

Of every star that Heaven doth shew. 

And every hearb that sips the dew ; 

Till old experience do attain 

To something like prophetic strain. 

These pleasures, Melancholy, give, . 

And I with thee will choose to live. I 



SONNET TO TPIE NIGHTINGALE 
(1632-33) 

O Nightingale that on yon blooming spray 
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, 
Thou with fresh hopes the Lover's heart dost fill, 
While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. 
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day, 
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill. 
Portend success in love. O if Jove's will 
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay. 



40 JOHN MILTON 

Now timely sing, ere the rude l)ir(l of hate 
Foretell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh; 
As thou from year to year hast sung too late 
For my relief, yet had'st no reason why. 
Whether the Muse or Love call thee his niate, 
Both them I serve, and of their train am I. 



SONG ON MAY MORNING 
(1632-33) 

Now the hright morning-star, Day's harhingcr, 
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her 
I'he flowery May, who from her green l;ip throws 
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. 

Hail, hounteons May, that dost inspire 

Mirth, and youth, and warm desire! 

Woods and groves are of thy dressing; 

Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
Thus wc salute thee with our early song. 
And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 

ON TIME 

(1633-34) 

Fi.v, envious Time, till thou run out thy race: 

Call on the lazy leaden-stcpi)ing Hours, 

Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace ; 

And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, 

Which is no more than what is false and vain, 

And merely mortal dross; 

So little is our loss. 

So little is thy gain ! 

For, whenas each thing bad thou hast entombed. 

And, last of all, thy greedy Self consumed. 

Then long eternity shall greet our bliss 

With an individual kiss, 

And joy shall overtake us as a flood ; 

When everything that is sincerely good 



rOEMS WRITTEN AT HORTON 41 

And pi'rfi'ctly divine, 

With 'I'rulli, and I'cacc, and I.ovc, shall ever shine 
About the supreme Throne 
Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone 
When once our heavenly-guided soul shall elimb, 
Then, all this earthly grossness quit. 
Attired with stars we shall forever sit. 
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, 
O Time I 



AT A s(jiJ':mn music 

(i^>33-34) 

Rr.KST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, 

Si)here-l)orn harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse, 

Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ, 

Dead things with inibreathed sense able to pierce; 

And to our high-raised phantasy present 

That undisturbed Song of pure consent. 

Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured Throne 

To Him that sits thereon. 

With saintly shout and solemn jubily; 

Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 

Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow, 

And the Cherubic host in thousand cpiires 

Touch their immortal har])s of golden wires. 

With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, 

Hymns devout and holy psalms 

Singing everlastingly: 

That we on I^arth, with undiscording voice. 

May rightly answer that melodious noise; 

As once we did, till disi)roportioned Sin 

jarred against Nature's chime, and with harsh din 

Hroke the fair music that all creatures made 

To their great Lord, whose love their motions swayed 

Tn perfect diapason, whilst they stood 

In first obedience, and their state of good. 

O, may we soon again renew that song, 

And keep in tunc with Heaven, till God ere long 



42 JOHN MILTON 

To his cdestial consort us unite, 

To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light ! 



UPON THE CIRCUMCISION 
(1634) 

Ye flaming Powers, and winged Warriors bright, 

That erst with music, and triumphant song. 

First heard by happy watchful Shepherds' ear, 

So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along. 

Through the soft silence of the listening night, — 

Now mourn ; and if sad share with us to bear 

Your fiery essence can distil no tear. 

Burn in your sighs, and borrow 

Seas wept from our deep sorrow, 

He who with all Heaven's heraldry whilcre 

Entered the world, now bleeds to give us ease. 

Alas ! how soon our sin 

Sore doth begin 

His infancy to seize ! 

O more exceeding Love, or Law more just? 

Just Law indeed, but more exceeding Love ! 

For we, by rightful doom remediless. 

Were lost in death, till He, that dwelt above 

High-throned in secret bliss, for us frail dust 

Emptied his glory, even to nakedness ; 

And that great Covenant which we still transgress 

Intirely satisfied, 

And the full wrath beside 

Of vengeful Justice bore for our excess, 

And seals obedience first with wounding smart 

This day ; but oh ! ere long. 

Huge pangs and strong 

Will pierce more near his heart. 



POEMS WRITTEN AT HORTON 43 

ARCADES 
(1633) 

Part of an Entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of 
Derby at Harefield by some Noble Persons of her Family; who 
appear on the Scene in pastoral habit, moving toward the seat 
of state, with this song: 

I. SONG 

Look, Nymphs and Shepherds, look ! 
What sudden blaze of majesty 
Is that which we from hence descry, 
Too divine to be mistook ? 

This, this is she 
To whom our vows and wishes bend: 
Here our solemn search hath end. 
Fame, that her high worth to raise 
Seemed erst so lavish and profuse, 
We may justly now accuse 
Of detraction from her praise : 

Less than half we find expressed; 

Envy bid conceal the rest. 

Mark what radiant state she spreads. 
In circle round her shining throne 
Shooting her beams like silver threads: 

This, this is she alone. 

Sitting like a Goddess bright 

In the centre of her light. 

Might she the wise Latona be, 
Or the towered Cybele, 
Mother of a hundred gods ? 
Juno dares not give her odds : 

Who had thought this clime had held 

A deity so unparalleled ? 

As they come forward, the Genius of the Wood appears, and, 
turning toward them, speaks. 

Gen. Stay, gentle Swains, for, though in this 
disguise, 



44 JOHN MILTON 

I see bright honom sparkle through your eyes; 

Of famous Arcady ye iirt and sprung 

Of that renowned HcjJ so often sung, 

Divine Alpbeuf, who, by secrtL sluice. 

Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse ; 

And ye, the breathing roses of the wood, 

Fair silver-buskined I-,ym[)ns, as great and good. 

I know this quest of yours and free intent 

Was all in honour and devotion meant 

To the great Mistress of yon princely shrine. 

Whom with low reverence I adore as mine. 

And with all helptul service will comply 

To furiier this nijjlii s ^^rd solemnity, 

And lead ye where ye may more near behold 

What shallow-searching Faine hath left untold; 

Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone, 

Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon. 

For know, by lot from Jove, T am the Power 

Of this fair wood and live w oaken bower. 

To nurse the saplings tall, and curl the grove 

With ringlets quaint and wanton windings wove; 

And all my plants I ^ave from nightly ill 

Of noisome winds and blasting vapours chill; 

And from the boughs brush off the evil dew, 

And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue. 

Or what the cross dire-lookirig planet smites, 

Or hurtful worm with cankered venom bites. 

When Evening grey doth rise, I fetch my round 

Over the mount, and all this hallowed ground; 

And early, ere the odorous breath of morn 

Awakes the slumbering leaves, or tasselled horn 

Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about, 

Number my ranks, and visit every sprout 

With puissant words and murmurs made to bless. 

But else, in deep of night, when drowsiness 

Hath locked up mortal sense, then listen I 

To the celestial Sirens' harmony. 

That sit upon the nine enfolded spheres. 

And sing to those that hold the vital shears, 

And turn the adamantine spindle round 



POEMS WRITTEN AT HORTON 45 

On which the fate of gods and men is wound. 
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, 
To lull the daughters of Necessity, 
And keep unsteady Nature to her law, 
And the low world in measured motion draw 
After the heavenly tune, which none can hear 
Of human mould with gross unpurged ear. 
And yet such music worthiest were to blaze 
The peerless height of her immortal praise 
Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit. 
If my inferior hand or voice could hit 
Inimitable sounds. Yet, as we go, 
Whate'er the skill of lesser gods can s?iOw 
I will assay, her worth to celebrate, 
And so attend ye tovard her glitter'ng state ; 
Where ye may all, that are of noble stem. 
Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem. 

II. SONG 

O'er the smooth enamelled green, 
Where no print of step hath been. 
Follow me, as I sing 
And touch the warbled string: 
Under the shady roof 
Of branching elm star-proof 

Follow me. 
I will bring you where she sits. 
Clad in splendour as befits 

Her deity. 
Such a rural Queen 
All Arcadia hath not seen. 

III. SONG 

Nymphs and Shepherds, dance no more 

By sandy Ladon's lilieil banks ; 
On old Lycreus, or Cyllene hoar, 

Trip no more in twilight ranks; 
Though Erymanth your loss deplore. 

A better soil shall give ye thanks. 

From the stony Ma^nalus 



46 JOHN MILTON 

Bring your flocks, and live with us; 
Here ye shall have greater grace, 
To serve the Lady of this place. 
Through Syrinx your Pan's mistress were, 
Yet Syrinx well might wait on her. 
Such a rural Queen 
All Arcadia hath not seen. 



COMUS, A MASK 

THE PERSONS 

The Attendant Spirit, afterwards in the habit of Thyrsis. 

CoMus, with his Crew. 
The Lady. First Brother. Second Brother. 

Sabrina, the Nymph. 

PRESENTEn at LuDLOW CaSTLE, 1634, BEFORE THE EaRL OF 

Bkiugewater, then President of Wales 

The Chief Persons which presented were : — 

The Lord Brackley ; Mr. Thomas Egerton, his Brother ; 

The Lady Alice Egerton. 

The first Seem discovers a wild tvood. 

The Attendant Spirit descends or enters. 

Before the starry threshold of Jove's court 

My mansion is, where those immortal shapes 

Of bright aerial Spirits live insphered 

In regions mild of calm and serene air, 

Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot 

Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care, 

Confined and pestered in this pinfold here. 

Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, 

Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives. 

After this mortal change, to her true servants 

Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats. 

Yet some there be that by due steps aspire 

To lay their just hands on that golden key 

That opes the Palace of Eternity. 

To such my errand is ; and, but for such, 

I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds 

With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 



COMUS 47 

But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway 
Of every salt flood and each ebbing stream, 
Took in, by lot 'twixt high and neither Jove, 
Imperial rule of all the sea-girt Isles 
That, like to rich and various gems, inlay 
The unadorned bosom of the Deep; 
Which he, to grace his tributary gods. 
By course commits to several government, 
And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns 
And wield their little tridents. But this Isle, 
The greatest and the best of all the main. 
He quarters to his blue-haired deities; 
And all this tract that fronts the falling sun 
A noble Peer of mickle trust and power 
Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide 
An old and haughty Nation, proud in arms : 
Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore, 
Are coming to attend their father's state, 
And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way 
Lies through the perplexed paths of this drear wood, 
The nodding horror of whose shady brows 
Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger; 
And here their tender age might suffer peril, 
But that, by quick command from sovran Jove, 
I was despatched for their defence and guard ! 
And listen why; for I will tell you now 
What never yet was heard in tale or song. 
From old or modern bard, in hall or bower. 

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape 
Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, 
After the Tuscan mariners transformed, 
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, 
On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not Circe, 
The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup 
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape. 
And downward fell into a grovelling swine?) 
This Nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks. 
With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth, 
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son 
Much like his father, but his mother more, 



48 JOHN MILTON 

Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus named: 

Who, ripe and frolic of his full-grown age, 

Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, 

At last betakes him to this ominous wood, 

And, in thick shelter of black shades imbowered, 

Excels his mother at her mighty art; 

Offering to every weary traveller 

His orient liquor in a crystal glass, 

To quench the drouth of Phoebus ; which as they taste 

(For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst), 

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance, 

The express resemblance of the gods, is changed 

Into some brutish form of wolf or bear. 

Or ounce or tiger, hog. or bearded goat 

All other parts remaining as they were. 

And they, so perfect is their misery, 

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement. 

But boast themselves more comely than before. 

And all their friends and native home forget, 

To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. 

Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove 

Chances to pass through this adventrous glade. 

Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star 

I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy. 

As now I do. But first I must put off 

These my sky-robes, spun out of Iris' woof, 

And take the weeds and likeness of a swain 

That to the service of this house belongs, 

Who. with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied song, 

Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar, 

And hush the waving woods ; nor of less faith. 

And in this office of his mountain watch 

Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid 

Of this occasion. But I hear the tread 

Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now. 

Comus enters, tci'/Zi a charming-rod in one luiiid. Iiis glass in the 
other: zs.'ith him a rout of Monsters, headed like sundry sorts of 
■zcild beasts, but othenvise like men and zvomen. their apparel 
glistering. They come in making a riotous and unruly noise, 
witli torches in their hands. 



COM us 49 

Comus. The star that bids the shepherd fold 
Now the top of heaven doth hold; 
And the gilded car of Day 
His glowing axle doth allay 
In the steep Atlantic stream: 
And the slope Sun his upward beam 
Shoots against the dusky pole, 
Pacing toward the other goal 
Of his chamber in the east. 
Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast, 
Midnight shout and revelry, 
Tipsy dance and jollity. 
Braid your locks with rosy twine, 
Dropping odours, dropping wine. 
Rigour now is gone to bed ; 
And Advice with scrupulous head. 
Strict Age, and sour Severity, 
With their grave saws, in slumber lie. 
We, that are of purer fire. 
Imitate the starry Quire, 
Who, in their nightly watchful spheres. 
Lead in swift round the months and years. 
The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, 
Now to the Moon in wavering morrice move; 
And on the tawny sands and shelves 
Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves. 
By dimpled brook and fountain-brim, 
The Wood-Nymphs, decked with daisies trim, 
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep: 
What hath night to do with sleep? 
Night hath better sweets to prove ; 
Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. 
Come, let us our rites begin ; 
'T is only daylight that makes sin, 
Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 
Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport, 
Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flame 
Of midnight torches burns ! mysterious Dame, 
That ne'er art called but when the dragon womb 
Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom, 



50 JOHN MILTON 

And makes one blot of all the air ! 

Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, 

Wherein thou ridcst with Hecat', and befriend 

Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end 

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out 

Ere the blabbing eastern scout. 

The nice Morn on the Indian steep, 

From her cabined loop-hole peep, 

And to the tell-tale Sun descry 

Our concealed solemnity. 

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground 

In a light fantastic round. 

The Measure. 

Break ofif, break off ! I feel the different pace 
Of some chaste footing near about this ground. 
Run to your shrouds within these brakes and 

trees ; 
Our number may affright. Some virgin sure 
(For so I can distinguish by mine art) 
Benighted in these woods ! Now to my charms, 
And to my wily trains : I shall ere long 
Be well stocked with as fair a herd as grazed 
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl 
My dazzling spells into the spongy air. 
Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion. 
And give it false presentments, lest the place 
And my quaint habits breed astonishment, 
And put the Damsel to suspicious flight ; 
Which must not be, for that's against my course. 
I, under fair pretence of friendly ends. 
And well-placed words of glozing courtesy. 
Baited with reasons not unplausible. 
Wind me into the easy-hearted man. 
And hug him into snares. When once her eye 
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust 
I shall appear some harmless villager. 
Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. 
But here she comes ; I fairly step aside, 
And hearken, if I may her business hear. 



COMUS 51 



The Ladv etitcrs 



Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true. 
My best guide now. Methought it was the sound 
Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 
Such as the jocond flute or gamesome pipe 
Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds, 
When, for their teeming flocks and granges full, 
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, 
And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth 
To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence 
Of such late wassailers; yet, oh! where else 
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? 
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out 
With this long way, resolving here to lodge 
Under the spreading favour of these pines. 
Stepped, as they said, to the next thicketside 
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit 
As the kind hospitable woods provide. 
They left me then when the grey-hooded Even, 
Like a s?d Votarist in palmer's weed. 
Rose fr* m the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. 
But wF re they are, and why they came not back, 
Is now he labour of my thoughts. 'T is likeliest 
They 1 ad ingaged their wandering steps too far ; 
And eJ vious darkness, ere they could return, 
Plad stole them from me. Else, O thievish Night, 
Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, 
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars 
That Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps 
With everlasting oil, to give due light 
To the misled and lonely travailler? 
This is the place, as well as I may guess. 
Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 
Was rife, and perfet in my listening ear ; 
Yet nought but single darkness do I find. 
What might this be? A thousand fantasies 
Begin to throng into my memory. 
Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, 



52 JOHN MILTON 

And airy tongues that syllabic men's names 
On sands and shores and desert wildernesses. 
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
By a strong siding champion, Conscience. 

welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, 
Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, 

And thou unblemished form of Chastity ! 

1 see ye visibly, and now believe 

That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill 

Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, 

Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, 

To keep my life and honour unassailed. . . . 

Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night? 

I did not err: there does a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night. 

And casts a gleam over this tufted grove. 

I cannot hallo to my brothers, but 

Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 

I'll venter ; for my new-enlivened spirits 

Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off. 

SONG 

Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph, that liv'st unseen 
Within thy airy shell 
By slow Meander's margent green. 
And in the violet-imbroidered vale 
Where the love-lorn Nightingale 
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well : 
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair 
That likest thy Narcissus are? 

O if thou have 
Hid them in some flowery cave. 

Tell me but where, 
Sweet Queen of Parley. Daughter of the Sphere ! 
So may'st thou be translated to the skies. 
And give resounding grace to all Heaven's 
harmonies ! 



COMUS 53 

Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
Breathe such divine inchanting ravishment? 
Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
To testify his hidden residence. 
How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, 
At every fall smoothing the raven down 
Of darkness till it smiled ! I have oft heard 
My mother Circe with the Sirens three. 
Amidst the fiowery-kirtled Naiades, 
Culling their potent hearbs and baleful drugs. 
Who. as they sung, would take the prisoned soul, 
And lap it in Elysium : Scylla wept. 
And chid her barking waves into attention. 
And fell Charyl)dis murmured soft applause. 
Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense, 
And in sweet madness robbed it of itself; 
But such a sacred and home-felt delight, 
Such sober certainty of waking bliss, 
I never heard till now. I'll speak to her. 
And she shall be my Queen. — Hail, foreign wonder ! 
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed. 
Unless the Goddess that in rural shrine 
Dwell'st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest song 
Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 
To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 

Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise 
That is addressed to unattending ears. 
Not any boast of skill', but extreme shift 
How to regain my severed company, 
Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo 
To give me answer from her mossy couch. 

Coiniis. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you 
thus? 

Lady. Dim darkness and this leavy labyrinth. 

Comus. Could that divide you from near-ushering 
guides? 

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 

Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why? 

'^ HC IV 



S4 JOHN MILTON 

Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly sprino;. 

Comns. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady ? 

Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick 
return. 

Comns. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. 

Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit ! 

Comns. Imports their loss, beside the present need? 

Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. 

Comus. Where they of manly prime, or youthful 
bloom? 

Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips. 

Comus. Two such T saw, what time the laboured ox 
In his loose traces from the furrow came, 
And the swinked hedger at his supper sat. 
I saw them under a green mantling vine. 
That crawls along the side of yon small hill, 
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots; 
Their port was more than human, as they stood. 
I took it for a faery vision 
Of some gay creatures of the element, 
That in the colours of the rainbow live. 
And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook. 
And, as I passed, I worshiped. If those you seek, 
It were a journey like the path to Pleaven 
To help you find them. 

Lady. Gentle villager. 

What readiest way would bring me to that place ? 

Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. 

Lady. To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose, 
In such a scant allowance of star-light, 
Would overtask the best land-pilot's art. 
Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. 

Comns. I know each lane, and every alley green, 
Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood. 
And every bosky bourn from side to side. 
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood; 
And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged, 
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know 
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark 
From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise, 



COMUS ss 

I can conduct you, Lady, to a low 

But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 

Till further quest. 

Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, 

And trust thy honest-offered courtesy, 
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds. 
With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls 
And courts of princes, where it first was named. 
And yet is most pretended. In a place 
Less warranted than this, or less secure, 
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. 
Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial 
To my proportioned strength ! Shepherd, lead 
on. . . . 

T/w Two Brothers. 

Eld. Bro. Unmuffie, ye faint stars ; and thcu, 
fair Moon, 
That wont'st to love the travailler's benison. 
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud. 
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here 
In double night of darkness and of shades; 
Or, if your influence be quite damned up 
With black usurping mists, some gentle taper. 
Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole 
Of some clay habitation, visit us 
With thy long levelled rule of streaming light, 
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, 
Or Tyrian Cynosure. 

Se:. Bro. Or, if our eyes 

Be barred that happiness, might we but hear 
The folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes, 
Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, 
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock 
Count the night-watches to his feathery dames, 
'T would be some solace yet, some little cheering, 
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. 
But, Oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister ! 
Where may she wander now, whither betake her 
From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles? 



56 JOHN MILTON 

I'crhaps some cold bank is her bolster now, 
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears. 
What if in wild amazement and affiright, 
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp 
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat ! 

Eld. Bro. Peace, brother: be not overcxcjuisite 
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; 
For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown, 
What need a man forestall his date of grief. 
And run to meet what he would most avoid? 
Or, if they be but false alarms of fear, 
How bitter is such self-delusion ! 
I do not think my sister so to seek. 
Or so unprincipled in virtue's book, 
And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, 
As that the single want of light and noise 
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 
Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, 
And put them into misbecoming plight. 
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would 
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon 
Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self 
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude. 
Where, with her best nurse. Contemplation, 
She plumjL's her feathers, and lets grow her wings. 
That, in the various bustle of resort. 
Were all to-rufHed, and sometimes impaired. 
He that has light within his own clear breast 
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day: 
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts 
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; 
Himself is his own dungeon. 

Sec. Bro. 'T is most true 

That musing Meditation most affects 
The pensive secrecy of desert cell. 
Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds. 
And sits as safe as in a senate-house ; 
For who would rob a Hermit of his weeds. 
His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, 



COMUS 57 

Or do his grey hairs any violence? 

But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian Tree 

Laden with blooming' gold, had need the guard 

Of dragon-watch with uninchantcd eye 

To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit, 

From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. 

You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps 

Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den. 

And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 

Danger will wink on Opportunity, 

And let a single helpless maiden pass 

Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. 

Of night or loneliness it recks me not ; 

I fear the dread events that dog them both. 

Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person 

Of our unowned sister. 

Eld. Bro. I do not, brother, 

Infer as if I thought my sister's state 
Secure without all doubt or controversy; 
Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear 
Does arbitrate the event, my nature is 
That I encline to hope rather than fear. 
And gladly banish squint suspicion. 
My sister is not so defenceless left 
As you imagine; she has a hidden strength. 
Which you remember not. 

Sec. Bro. What hidden strength. 

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that? 

Hid. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, 
Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own: 
'T is Chastity, my brother. Chastity: 
She that has that is clad in com'plete steel. 
And. like a quivered nymph with arrows keen, 
May trace huge forests, and unhar1)oured heaths. 
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds; 
Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, 
No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer. 
Will dare to soil her virgin purity. 
Yea, there where very desolation dwells. 
By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades, 



58 JOHN MILTON 

She may pass on with unblenched majesty, 
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. 
Some say no evil thing that walks by night, 
In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, 
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost. 
That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, 
No goblin or swart faery of the mine, 
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 
Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call 
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece 
To testify the arms of Chastity? 
Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, 
Fair silver-shafted Queen for ever chaste. 
Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness 
And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought 
The frivolous bolt of Cupid ; gods and men 
Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the 

woods. 
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield 
That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin, 
Wherewith she freezed her foes to con'gealed stone, 
But rigid looks of chaste austerity, 
And noble grace that dashed brute violence 
With sudden adoration and blank awe ? 
So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity 
That, when a soul is found sincerely so, 
A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, 
And in clear dream and solemn vision 
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear; 
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants 
Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, 
The unpolluted temple of the mind. 
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 
Till all be made immortal. But, when lust, 
By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk. 
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 
Lets in defilement to the inward parts. 
The soul grows clotted b)' contagion, 
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose 



COMUS 59 

The divine properly of her first being. 

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 

Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres, 

Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave, 

As loth to leave the body that it loved, 

And linked itself by carnal sensualty 

To a degenerate and degraded state. 

Sec. Bro. How charming is divine Philosophy ! 
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose. 
But musical as is Apollo's lute. 
And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, 
Where no crude surfeit reigns. 

Eld. Bro. List! list! I hear 

Some far-off hallo break the silent air. 

Sec. Bro. Methought so too; what should it be? 

Eld. Bro. For certain, 

Either some one, like us, night-foundered here, 
Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst. 
Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 

Sec. Bro. Heaven keep my sister ! 
Again, again, and near ! 
Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 

Eld. Bro. I'll hallo. 

If he be friendly, he comes well : if not, 
Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us I 

The Attendant Spn<iT, kabited like a slieplierJ. 

That hallo I should know. What are you ? speak. 
Come not too near; you fall on iron .stakes else. 
Spxr. What voice is that? my young Lord? speak 

again. 
Sec. Bro. O brother, "t is my father's Shepherd, 

sure. 
EAd. Bro. Thyrsis ! whose artful strains have oft 

delayed 
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal. 
And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale. 
How camest thou here, good swain ? Hath any ram 
Slipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam. 
Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook? 



60 JOHN MILTON 

How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook? 

Spir. O my loved master's heir, and his next joy, 
I came not here on such a trivial toy 
As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth 
Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth 
That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought 
To this my errand, and the care it brought. 
But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she? 
How chance she is not in your company? 

Eld. Bro. To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without 
blame 
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 

Spir. Ay me unhai)]Vv' ! then my fears are true. 

Eld. Bro. What fears, good Thyrsis? 
Prithee briefly shew. 

Spir. ril tell ye. 'T is not vain or fabulous 
(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance) 
What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse, 
Storied of old in high immortal verse 
Of dire Chimeras and inchanted Isles, 
And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell; 
For such there be, but unbelief is blind. 

Within the navel of this hideous wood, 
Immured in cypress shades, a Sorcerer dwells, 
Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, 
Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries, 
And here to every thirsty wanderer 
By sly enticement gives his baneful cup. 
With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison 
The' visage quite transforms of him that drinks. 
And the inglorious likeness of a beast 
Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 
Charactered in the face. This have I learnt 
Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts 
That brow this bottom glade; whence night by night 
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl 
Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey. 
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 
In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. 
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells 



COMUS 61 

To inveigle and invite the unwary sense 

Of them that pass unweeting l)y tlic way. 

This evening late, by then the chewing flocks ' 

Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herl) 

Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, 

I sat me down to watch upon a bank 

With ivy canopied, and interwove 

With flaunting honeysuckle, and began. 

Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, 

To meditate my rural minstrelsy. 

Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close 

The wonted roar was up amidst the woods, 

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance ; 

At which I ceased, and listened them a while, 

Till an unusual stop of sudden silence 

Gave respite to the drowsy-flighted steeds 

That draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep. 

At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 

Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes. 

And stole upon the air, that even Silence 

Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might 

Deny her nature, and be never more, 

Still to be so displaced. ^ I was all ear. 

And took in strains that might create a soul 

Under the ribs of Death. But, oh ! ere long 

To well I did perceive it was the voice 

Of my most honoured Lady, your dear sister. 

Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear ; 

And " O poor hapless Nightingale," thought I, 

" How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare!" 

Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste, 

Through paths and turnings often trod by day, 

Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place 

Where that damned wisard, hid in sly disguise 

(For so by certain signs T knew), had met 

Already, ere my best speed could prevent, 

The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey; 

Who gently asked if he had seen such two, 

Supposing him some neighbour villager. 

Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed 



62 JOHN MILTON 

Yo wore llic two she nieaiil ; willi lliat I si)rung 
Into swift lli^'lit, till 1 had foinul you here; 
But furder know 1 not. 

Sec. Bro. () ni_i;ht and shades, 

How are ye joined with hell in triple knot 
Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin, 
Alone and helpless! Is this the confidenee 
You gave nie, hrother? 

lUd. Ilro. Yes, and keep it still; 

Lean on it safely; not a period 
Shall he unsaid for me. Against the threats 
Of jnalice or of soreery, or that power 
Whieh erring men eall Chanee, this 1 holil firm: 
Virtue may he assailed, hut never hurt, 
Surprised hy imjusl forec, hut not enthralled; 
Yea, even that whieh Misehief meant most harm 
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory. 
But evil on itself shall haek recoil. 
And mix no more with goodness, wIumi at last, 
Gathered like scum, and settled to itself. 
It shall he in eternal restless change 
Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail. 
The pillared firmament is rottenness. 
And earth's hase built on stuhhle. But come, let's on 
Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 
May nt'vi'r this just sword he lifted xip; 
But, f(tr that damned magician, let him he girt 
With all the griesly legiTtiis that troop 
Ihuler the sooty Hag of Acheron, 
llarpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 
'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out, 
And force him to restore his piu'chase hack, 
Or drag him by the cmls to a foul death, 
Cin-sed as his life. 

S/vr. Alas! good ventrous voutJi, 

1 love thy courage yet, and hold emprise; 
But here thy sword can do thee little stead. 
Far other arms and other weajions nnist 
Be those that cpiell tlu" nn'ght of ln-llish charms. 
He with his bare waml can unthread thy joints. 



COMUS 63 

y\ii(l criimhk- all tliy siiu-vvs. 

Hid. Bro. Why, prithee Sheplu-rd, 

Mow (hirst thoti Ihiii lliyselt' apiJioach su near 
As to make this relation? 

Spir. Care and utmost shifts 

Ihnv to secure the Lady from sur])risal 
HrouslU to my mind a certain shepherd lad, 
Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled 
In every virtuous j)Iant and iiealiu}^ hcarh 
That spreads her vi'rdant leaf to the niornini; ray. 
He loved me well, and oft woidd hej^; me sin^; 
Which when I did, he on the tender grass 
Would sit, and hearken even to ecstasy, 
And in requital ope his leathern scrip. 
And shew me simples of a thousand names, 
Tellinjj; their stranjje and vij:;orous faculties. 
Amouf^st the rest a small uusifjfhtly root, 
But of divine effect, he culled mc out. 
The leaf was darkish, and had jiricklcs on it. 
Hut in another country, as he said, 
l')ore a hri}.jht j;[olden flower, hut not in this soil: 
Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain 
Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon ; 
And yet more med'cinal is it than that Moly 
That llermes once to wise Ulysses i^ave. 
lie called it Ha'inony, and qave it me. 
And hade me keep it as of sovran use 
'dainst all inchantmcnis, mililcw hiasi, or damp, 
Or fjjhastly I'^irics' apparition. 
1 pursed it up, but little reckoin'nfi^ made, 
Till now that this extremity compelled. 
r?ut now T find it true ; for hy this means 
I knew the foul inchanter, thoiis^di dis^;uiscd, 
Entered the very lime-twi,i;s of his spells. 
And yet came off. If you have this rd>out you 
(As I will ijive yon when we go) you may 
Boldly assault the necromancer's hall; 
Where if he he, with dauntless hardihood 
And brandished blade rush on him : break his glass. 
And shed the luscious lirpior on the ground; 



64 JOHN MILTON 

But seize his wand. 'riuHii;li he ami his curst crew 
Fierce sign of hattail make, menace high. 
Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke. 
Yet will they soon retire, if he hut shrink. 

Eld. Bro. Thyrsis, lead on apace; I'll follow thee; 
And some good angel bear a shield before us ! 

The Scene changes to a stately /"((/(jcr. set out with all manner of 
deliciotisness : soft music, tables spread with all dainties. 
CoMus appears with his rahble. and the Lady set in an inchanted 
chair; to whom he offers his ^lass ; which she puts by. and goes 
about to rise. 

Comns. Nay, l.ady, sit. If 1 Init wave this wand, 
Your nerves are all chained up in alahlaster, 
And you a statue, or as Oaplme was, 
Root-homul, Ihat llod Apollo. 

Lady. Fool, do not boast. 

Thou o.iiist \\o{ touch the frcciloni of my mind 
With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
Thou hast immanacled while Heaven sees good. 

Counts. Why arc you vexed. Lady? why do yovi 
frown ? . 

Here dwell no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates 
Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures 
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts. 
When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 
Brisk as the April buds in primrose season. 
And fust beholil this cordial julep here. 
That tlames and dances in his crystal bounds. 
With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed. 
Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone 
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena 
Is of such power to stir up joy as this. 
To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. 
AVhy should you be so cruel to yourself. 
And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent 
For gentle usage and soft delicacy? 
But you invert the covenants of her trust, 
Atul harshly deal, like an ill borrower. 
With that which you received on other terms, 
Scorning the unexetu[)t coiulitiou 



COM us 65 

Bv whicli all mortal t'lailty must subsist, 
Rcfrcshmciit after toil, case after pain, 
That have been tired all day without repast, 
And timely rest have wanteil. I'ut, fair virtjiii, 
This will restore all soon. 

Lady. '1' will not, false traitiir! 

"T will not restore the truth and honesty 
That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies. 
Was this the eottage and the safe abode 
Thou toKl'st me of? What grim aspeets' are these. 
These oughly-headed monsters? Merey guard me! 
llenee with thy brewed inehantmcnts. foul deeeiver ! 
llast thou betrayed my eredulous innocenec 
With vizored falsehood and base forgery? 
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here 
With liekerish baits, fit to ensnare a brute? 
Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, 
1 would not taste thy treasonous offer. None 
I»ut sueh as are good men ean give good things; 
And that which is not good is not delicious 
To a well-governed and wise appetite. 

Coiinis. O foolishness of men ! that lend their ears 
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur. 
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub. 
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence 
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forih 
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand. 
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, 
Thronging the seas with spaw-n innumerable. 
Rut all to please and sate the curious taste? 
And set to work millions of spinning worms, 
That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk, 
To deck her sons ; and. that no corner might 
He vacant of her plenty, in her own loins 
She hutched the all-worshiped ore and precious gems, 
To store her children with. Tf all the world 
Should in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse. 
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze. 
The All-giver would be unthanked. would be unpraised. 
Not half his riches known, and yet despised; 



66 JOHN MILTON 

And we should serve him as a grudging master, 

As a penurious niggard of his wealth, 

And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons, 

Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, 

And strangled with her waste fertility: 

The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with 

plumes ; 
The herds would over-multitude their lords ; 
The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought 

diamonds 
Would so emblaze the forehead of the Deep, 
And so bestud with stars, that they below 
Would grow inured to light, and come at last 
To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows. 
List, Lady; be not coy, and be not cozened 
With that same vaunted name. Virginity. 
Beauty is Nature's coin; must not be hoarded, 
But must be current ; and the good thereof 
Consists in mutual and* partaken bliss, 
Unsavoury in the injoyment of itself. 
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose 
It withers on the stalk with languished head. 
Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown 
In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, 
Where most may wonder at the workmanship. 
It is for homely features to keep home ; 
They had their name thence : coarse complexions 
And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 
The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool. 
What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that, 
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morn? 
There was another meaning in these gifts; 
Think what, and be advised ; you are but young yet. 

Lady. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips 
In this unhallowed air, but that this Juggler 
Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, 
Obtruding false rules pranked in reason's garb. 
I hate when Vice can bolt her arguments 
And Virtue has no tongue to check her pride. 
Impostor ! do not charge most innocent Nature, 



COMUS 67 

As if she would her children should be riotous 

With her abundance. She, good Cateress, 

Means her provision only to the good, 

That live according to her sober laws, 

And holy dictate of spare Temperance. 

If every just man that now pines with want 

Had but a moderate and beseeming share 

Of that which lewdly pampered Luxury 

Now heaps upon some few with vast excess. 

Nature's full blessings would be well-dispensed 

In unsuperfluous even proportion, 

And she no whit encumbered with her store ; 

And then the Giver would be better thanked, 

His praise due paid: for swinish Gluttony 

Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast. 

But with besotted base ingratitude 

Crams and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on ? 

Or have I said enow ? To him that dares 

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words 

Against the sun-clad power of Chastity 

Fain would I something say ; — yet to what end ? 

Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend 

The sublime notion and high mystery 

That must be uttered to unfold the sage 

And serious doctrine of Virginity ; 

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know 

More happiness than this thy present lot. 

Enjoy your dear Wit, and gay Rhetoric, 

That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence ; 

Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced. 

Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth 

Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits 

To such a flame of sacred vehemence 
That dumb things would be moved to sympathize, 
And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake. 
Till all thy magic structures, reared so high. 
Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head. 
Comics. She fables not. I feel that I do fear 
Her words set off by some superior power; 
And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew 



68 JOHN MILTON 

Dips nic all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove 

Speaks tlnindcr and the chains of Erebus 

To sonic of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, 

And try her yet more stronj^^ly. — Come, no more! 

This is mere moral babble, and direct 

Against the canon laws of our foundation. 

I must not suffer this ; yet 't is but the Ices 

And settlings of a melancholy blood. 

But this will cure all straight ; one sip of this 

Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight 

Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste . . . 

The Brothers rush in zi'ith sicords drazvn, lircst his glass out of his 
hoiiti, and break it against the ground: his rout make sign rf 
resistance, but are all driven in. The Attend.\nt Spirit 
conies in. 

Spir. What ! have you let the false Enchanter scape ? 
O ye mistook ; yc should have snatched his wand, 
And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed, 
And backward mutters of dissevering power. 
We cannot free the Lady that sits here 
In stony fetters fixed and motionless. 
Yet stay: be not disturbed; now I bethink me, 
Some other means I have which may be used, 
Which once of Melibceus old I learnt. 
The soothest Shepherd that ere piped on pkvns. 

There is a gentle Nymph not far from hence. 
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream: 
Sabrina is her name: a virgin pure; 
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, 
That had the sceptre from his father Brute. 
She. guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit 
(^f her enraged stepdame, Guendolen. 
Commended her fair innocence to the flood 
That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course. 
The water-Nymphs, that in the bottom played, 
Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in. 
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall ; 
W'ho, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, 
And eave her to his daughters to imbathe 



COMUS 69 

In nectarcd lavers strewed with asphodil. 
And through the porch and inlet of each sense 
Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she revived. 
And underwent a quick immortal change, 
Made Goddess of the river. Still she retains 
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve 
\'isits the herds along the twilight meadows, 
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs 
That the shrewd meddling Elf delights to make. 
Which she with pretious vialed liquors heals : 
For which the Shepherds, at their festivals, 
Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays. 
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream, 
Of pausies, pinks, and gaudy datTatlils. 
And. as the old Swain said, she can unlock 
The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell, 
If she be right invoked in warbled song; 
For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift 
To aid a virgin, such as was herself, 
In hard-besetting need. This will I try. 
And add the power of some adjuring verse. 

SONG 

Sabrina fair. 

Listen where thou art sitting 
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave. 

In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; 

Listen for dear honour's sake. 

Goddess of the silver lake. 
Listen and save ! 

Listen, and appear to us. 
In name of great Oceanus. 
By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace. 
And Tethys' grave majestic pace; 
By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look. 
And the Carpathian wizard's hook; 
By scaly Triton's winding shell. 
And old soothsaying Glaucus" spell; 



70 JOHN MILTON 

By Leucothea's lovely hands, 

And her son that rules the strands; 

By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, 

And the songs of Sirens sweet; 

By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, 

And fair Ligea's golden comb, 

Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks 

Sleeking her soft alluring locks ; 

By all the nymphs that nightly dance 

Upon thy streams with wily glance ; 

Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy hsad 

From thy coral-paven bed. 

And bridle in thy headlong wave. 

Till thou our sunmions answered have. 

Listen and save ! 

Sabrina rises, attended by Water-nymphs, and sings. 

By the rushy-fringed bank, 

Where grows the willow and the oiser dank. 

My sliding chariot stays, 
Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen 
Of turkis blue, and emerald green. 

That in the channel strays : 
Whilst from off the waters fleet 
Thus I set my printless feet 
O'er the cowslip's velvet head, 

That bends not as I tread. 
Gentle swain, at thy request 

I am here ! 

S[^ir. Goddess dear. 
We implore thy powerful hand 
To undo the charmed band 
Of true virgin here distressed 
Through the force and through the wile 
Of unblessed enchanter vile. 

Sahr. Shepherd, 't is my office best 
To help insnared Chastity. 
Brightest Lady, look on me. 
Thus I sprinkle on thy breast 



COMUS 71 

Drops that from my fountain pure 
I have kept of pretious cure ; 
Thrice upon thy finger's tip, 
Thrice upon thy rubied lip: 
Next this marble venomed seat, 
Smeared with gums of glutinous heat, 
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold. 
Now the spell hath lost his hold; 
And I must haste ere morning hour 
To wait in Amphitrite's bower. 

Sahkina dcscriiils. a>id the Lauy rises out of her seat. 
Spir. Virgin, daughter of Locrine, 

Sprung of old Anchises' line, 

May thy brimmed waves for this 

Their full tribute never miss 

From a thousand petty rills. 

That tumble down the snowy hills: 

Stuumer drouth or singed air 

Never scorch thy tresses fair, 

Nor wet October's torrent flood 

Thy molten crystal fill with mud; 

May thy billows roll ashore 

The beryl and the golden ore; 

May thy lofty head be crowned 

With many a tower and terrace round. 

And here and there thy banks upon 

With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. 

Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace, 
Let us fly this cursed place, 

Lest the Sorcerer us entice 
With some other new device. 
Not a waste or needless sound 
Till we come to holier ground. 
I shall be your faithful guide 
Through this gloomy covert wide; 
And not many furlongs thence 
Is your Father's residence, 
Where this night are met in state 
Many a friend to gratulate 



72 JOHN MILTON 

His wished presence, and beside 
All the Swains that there abide 
With jigs and rural dance resort. 
We shall catch them at their sport, 
And our sudden coming there 
Will double all their mirth and cheer. 
Come, let us haste; the stars grow high, 
But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. 

The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow Tojvn, and the President's 
Castle: then come in Country Dancers; after them the Attend- 
ant Spirit, with the two Broth isks and the Lady. 

SONG 

Spir. Back, Shepherds, 1)ack ! Enough your play 
Till next sun-shine holiday. 
Here be, without duck or nod, 
Other trippings to be trod 
Of lighter toes, and such court guise 
As Mercury did first devise 
With the mincing Dryades 
On the lawns and on the leas. 

This second Song presoifs tliciii to their Father and Mother. 

Noble Lord and Lady bright, 
I have brought ye new delight. 
Here behold so goodly grown 
Three fair branches of your own. 
Heaven hath timely tried their youth, 
Their faith, their patience, and their truth. 
And sent them here through hard assays 
With a crown of deathless praise, 
To triumph in victorious dance 
O'er sensual Folly and Intemperance. 

The dances ended, the Spirit epilogui::es. 

Spir. To the ocean now I fly. 
And those happy climes that lie 
Where day never shuts his eye. 
Up in the broad fields of the sky. 



LYCIDAS 7U 

Now, Lycidas, tlie Shepherds weep no more; 
Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, 
In thy large recompense, and shaU be good 
To all that wander in that perilous Hood. 

Thus sang the uncouth Swain to the oaks and rills. 
While the still Morn went out with sandals grey : 
He touched the tender stops of various quills, 
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: 
And now the sun had stretched out all the hills. 
And now was dropt into the western bay. 
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue: 
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 



POKMS WRITTEN DURINC^ HIE 

CI\'IL WAR AND Tills 

PROrECTORATE 

WHEN Till-: ASSAl'l r WAS INTENDED 
Tt) THE c\y\' 

(NtnKMr.KK. \t>.\::) 

(^API'AIN. or colotiol, or knight in arms. 
. \\ hoso chance on those defei\celess iloors may seize, 
-^ ll doecl of honour diil thee ever please. 
Guard them, and hiu) within protect from harms. 
He can requite thee, for he knows the charms 
That call fame oi\ such gentle acts as these. 
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, 
Whatever clime the sun's hright circle warms. 
Lift not thy spear against the Muse's hower; 
The great Emathian conqnenM- hid spare 
The house of Tindarus. when temple and tower 
Went to the groutid ; and the repeatevl air 
Of sad l-llectra's Toet had the power 
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. 



TO A xiKiT'ors vcnw; i \nY 

1. Apv ! that in the prime of earliest youth 
\\ isely hast shunned the broad way and the green, 
And with those few art eminently seen. 
That labour up the Hill of Heavenly Truth, 
80 



SONNKTS 81 

'Hit- ]ic\\cr part with Mary arir] with Ruth 

(Jlioscn thou hast, ariM they that ovrrwecn, 

And at thy j^rowin^ virtues fr<;t tlieir spleen, 

No anjfcr find in thee, hut pity and ruth. 

Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends 

To fill thy odorous Lamp with deeds of light. 

And Hope that reaps not shame; therefore he sure, 

Thou, when the Bridej^room with his feastful friends 

I'asses to hliss at the mid hour of nij^ht, 

Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure. 



TO 'Ifff-: I.ADY MARGAin-.T LEY 
r 1644-5) 

UAt;r;ini.i< to that goofl iCarl, once I'resident 
Of England's Council and her Treasury, 
Who lived in iKjth unstained with gold or fee, 
Anrl left them both, more in himself content, 

'Jill the safl breaking of that Parliament 
J'roke him, as that dislK<nr:st victory 
At <',ha;ronea, fatal to liberty, 
Killerl with report that old man eloquent. 

Though later born than to have known the days 
Wherein your father flourished, yet by you. 
Madam, methinks I see him living yet: 

So well your words his noble virtues praise 
That all both judge you to relate them true 
Anrl to possess them, honoured Margaret. 

0.\' THE OiyiKACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON 
MY WRITING CERTALV TRICATISES 

r 1645-6) 

A HOOK was writ of late called Telrachordon, 
And woven close, both matter, form, and style; 
The subject new: it walked the town a while. 
Numbering good intellects; now seldom porerl on. 

Cries the stall-reader, " Bless us! what a word on 



82 JOHN MILTON 

A title-page is this !" ; and some in file 
Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile- 
End Green. Why, is it harder, sirs, than Gordon, 

Colkitto, or Macdonncl, or GalaspF 

Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek 
That would have made Ouintilian stare and gasp. 

Thy age. like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek, 
Hated not learning worse than toad or asp. 
When thou taught'st Cambridge and King Edward 
Greek. 



ON THE SAME 
(1645-6) 

I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs 
By the known rules of ancient liberty, 
When straight a barbarous noise environs me 
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs ; 

As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs 
Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny. 
Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee. 
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs, 

That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, 
And still revolt when Truth would set them free. 
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty ; 

For who loves that nuist first be wise and good: 
But from that mark how far they rove we see. 
For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood. 



ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE 

UNDER THE LONG PARLIAMENT 

(1646) 

Because you have thrown off your Prelate Lord, 
And with stiff vows renounced his Liturgy, 
To seize the widowed whore Plurality, 
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorred. 

Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword 



SONNETS 83 

To force our consciences that Christ set free, 
And ride us with a Classic Hierarchy, 
Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rutherford ? 
Men v.'hose Hfe, learning, faith, and pure intent, 
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul 
. Must now be named and printed heretics 
Ijy shallow Edwards and Scotch What-d'ye-call ! 
P.ut we do hope to find out all your tricks. 
Your plots and packing, worse than those of Trent, 
That so the Parliament 
May with their wholesome and preventive shears 
Clip your |)hylacterics, though baulk your ears, 

And succour our just fears, 
When they shall read this clearly in your charge: 
New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large. 



TO MR. TT. T.AWRS ON TTTS AIRS 
(1646) 

Harry, whose ttmcful and well-measured song 
First taught our English music how to span 
Words with just note and accent, not to scan 
With Midas' ears, committing short and long, 

Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, 
With praise enough for Envy to look wan ; 
To after age thou shalt be writ the man 
That with smooth air couldst humour best our 
tongue. 

Thou honour'st Verse, and Verse must lend her wing 
To honour thee, the ])riest of Phoebus' quire. 
That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story. 

Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher 
Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing, 
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory. 



84 JOHN MILTON 

ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATH- 
ERINE THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, 
DECEASED DEC. i6, 1646 
(1646) 

When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, 
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, 
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever. 

Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour. 
Stayed not hehind, nor in the grave were trod; 
But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod, 
Followed thee up to joy and bliss for ever. 

Love led them on ; and Faith, who knew them best 
Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams 
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, 

And speak the truth of thee on glorious themes 
Before the Judge ; who henceforth bid thee rest, 
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. 

ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX AT THE 

SIEGE OF COLCHESTER 

(1648) 

Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings, 
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise. 
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze, 
And rumours loud that daunt remotest kings. 

Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings 

Victory home, though new rebellions raise 
Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays 
Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. 

O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand 

(For what can war but endless war still breed?) 
Till truth and right from violence be freed. 

And public faith cleared from the shameful brand 
Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed. 
While Avarice and Rapine share the land. 



SONNETS 8S 

TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, ON THE 
PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS 
AT THE COMMITTEE FOR THE PROP- 
AGATION OF THE GOSPEL 
(1652) 

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud 
Not of war only, but detractions rude, 
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude. 
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, 

And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud 

Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued, 
While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued. 
And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud. 

And Worcester's laureate wreath : yet much remains 
To conquer still ; Peace hath her victories 
No less renowned than War: new foes arise, 

Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. 
Help us to save free conscience from the paw 
Of hireling wolves, whose Gospel is their maw. 

TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER 
(1652) 

Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old. 

Than whom a better senator ne'er held 

The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled 

The fierce Epirot and the African bold. 
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold 

The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled; 

Then to advise how war may best, upheld, 

Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, 
In all her equipage; besides, to know 

Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, 

What severs each, thou hast learned, which few 
have done. 
The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : 

p HCIV 



JOHN Mii.roN 

'riu'ifldir on Illy liiiii liaiul Kcli^ioii liMiis 
111 |>(.';icr, ;iiul rrckoiis llui- lu r ildosl son. 



ON rill'. LAII'. MASSACkh: IN I'lI'MONT 

Av'KNi;!':, () l.i.inl, lliy sliiiiijilcu'd S.iints, whose lioiu-s 

Lit' sriitU'ifd on llic Alpiiu- iiionnlaiiis roid ; 

I'lvon llu'iii who Ivi'pt thy linlli so pnn- ol' old. 
Wlu'ii all ttiir i'allurs worsliiprd slinks and sIoik-s, 
I'orj^fl iiol : in ihv hook rciord llicir groans 

Who wiTi' lii\' sluT|>, and ill lluir am icnl loid 

Slain l>\' Ihf jiloodv ricmoiilcsr. liial rolKd 
MdIIut wilh iiilant down llu- rocks. Their moans 
The vales rt-doiihled to the hills, and lliey 

To heaven. Their martyred hlood and ashes sow 
( )\"r all Ihe Italian fields, wlu-re still <!oth sway 

The triple Tyrant ; that from these may ,i;row 
A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy vvay^ 

Tlailv iiiav ll\ the Mahvlonian woe. 



ON HIS 111,1 NMNI'.SS 

WmcN T consider how my lii^ht is spent 

l''.re half my days in this dark world ami wide, 
Anil that one Talent wliioh is death to hiiU- 
l,()(If.;ed wilh \\\c useless, though inv soul more hent 

To serve Iheiewith m\ Maki'r, and presi-nt 
Mv true aeeoniit, lest lie reliirnini; eliide, 
"hoth (io<l exaet day-lal)onr, li,i;ht denied?" 
1 fondly ask. Hnt I'ationce, to pri'vent 

Tliat innrmnr, so(»n replies, "(lod doth not need 
Jul her man's work or his own j^ifts. Who hest 
l*ear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 

Is kindly: thousands at his hitldinq s^ood. 
And post o'er land and oeean wilhont rest ; 
They also serve who oiilv stand and wait." 



SONNKTS 



87 



TO MU. LAVVRFNCE 

l-AvvkKN<i;, of virtuous frillicr virliiotis son, 

Now lli;i( liic fields arc dank, and ways arc mire, 
Where shall wc sometimes meet, and hy llie fire 
llclp waste a sidlcn day, what may he won 

I'Vom the hard season j,faininj,^? Time will run 
On smoolher, till I'avoniiis reinspire 
The fro/en earlii, and cloihc in fresh attire 
The lily ami rose, Ihal neither sowed noi- spun. 

What neat repast shall feast us, lij^lil and choice, 
Of Atlit- lasle, with wine, whence we may rise 
To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice 

VVarhle inmiorlal notes and Tuscan air? 

He who of iIkisc d(li;;hls can jnd^^e, and spare 
To interjKise lliein ofl, is muI unwise. 



'IX) CYK'IACK SKINNMR 
((656) 

Cyiuack, whose f^'-r.'uidsire on liie royal hcnch 
Of liritish Thenus, with no mean applause, 
iVonoiuiced, and in his voliuiies tau^lil, our laws, 
Which others at tlu-ir har so often wrench, 

To day deep Ihouf^lils resolve with me io drench 
In mirth that after no repentiu}^ draws ; 
I -el ICuclid rest, and Archimedes pause. 
And what the .Swede intend, and what the ImcucIi 

To measiu-e life learn thou Ijctinic-s, and Uncnv 
Toward solid j^ood what leads the nearest way; 
I'or other thiuf^rs mild Heaven a time ordains, 

And disapproves that cue, thouj^h wise in show, 
'I'hat with superlhioiis hurden loads the day. 
And, .when Ijod seiuls a cheerful hour, refrains. 



H8 SONNKTS 

TO rill-: SAM I'. 

I'nki \( k. (his (luce \ r.n •.' .I.i\ tlusc eves. tlinii};li i'lc;\l'. 

I'd (iiilw.ud vifw, ol liltiiitsli 111 ol '.|ni|. 

Unrll nl lirjil. ihni sr.'iiii; li.ivr l.uv.ol ; 

Noi lo (Ih-ll i.llr ,.il.s ilolll :.l!;lll .ipiuMl 
( >l Mill. Ol iihidii. (U ;,|,ii. llllt)in;liiMil llu- \ i>;ir. 

Ol 111.111. 1)1 uiiiii.m. \ c{ I ;iiiMir mil 

A>;;iinsl lltMvni's li.nul m will, ium ImIi' .1 jol 

or lic'irl of liopr, lull slill In. II ii|i iihl 'Iri'i 
l\ii;lil (iiiw.Uil W li.il ■.nii|niil'. nu\ i!.>,l llioii ;isk ? 

Tin- nuisi inm-. Iiiciid. I<> liavr lost lluiii ovtM'pliod 

111 I i!uil\''. (IcIriHr, iii\ iioMr l.islv, 
t)| \\Iii»li ,ill Imihi|h- liiii'.s lidiii ,';i(!(' In side, 

Tliis lliniii'.lil niii'.Iil Ic.id iiu- llu niijdi llu- wiuld's vain 
mask 
("ottlonl. liioui;li lilmd. Ii.id I no In'lln !;iii(K\ 

ON Ills ni-ri"\si'i> wii'i'" 

Mn riHU'cn I' I saw niv la((> osium,><<;^il saiiil 
llnMijdil lo nu- liUr AKoslis I'roni llic sMavr. 
Whom |o\t>'s f.jn'al son lo hoc ^lad hnshaiul j;a\(\ 
l\os»MiO(l Uom honlli hv loroo. thiMi,i;h palo and I. mil 

Miiu\ as whom wasliod Irom spot ol" vliddlu-d I, mil 
ruitliv'alion in tho ( Md Law tlid save. 
And snvli as wi oih >• inoir 1 (nisi to havo 
iMtll sijihl ol lui 111 IKmvi'ii wilhonl ii's(r;unh 

Oamr vostod all in whiU\ piiu- ,is Ium miiul, 
llcr I'aoo was wilrd; vol lo in\ i.nuird sij^ht 
Love, swocltjoss, ntuulitcss. in lu-i prison sIuiuhI 

St> cloai' as in no laoo with moro doli.i;h(. 
Hnl, oh I as (o iMiilnavT mr sho iiuliiuil, 
I w.ilvt'd. slu- iK'd, .Hid Aa\ l»ion!;h( h.u-U my iiij;ht. 



^}i£ first facsimile reproduction 

(full size) of a page of the 

manuscript of Paradise Lost, " 

published by permission from 

the original in the library of 

J. Pierpont Morgan, Esq. 



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PARADISR rX)ST 
1658-1663 

'I'llIC VKKSK 

The measure \» English heroic verse witfioiit rime, as that of 
Hoini r if) fireck, and of Virgil in Latin — rime beinj^ no ncceHHary 
adjunct or true ornamentof [joem or j^ood verse, in longer works 
especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off 
wretched matter and lame metre; graced indeed since by the use 
of some famous modern poets, carried away by custom, but much 
to their own vexation, hindrance, and constraint to express many 
things otherwise, and for the most part worse, than else they 
wouifl Iiave expresssd them. Not without cause therefore some 
both Italian and Spanish poets <>( prime note have rejected rime 
b'Ah in longer and shorter works, as have alsoh^ng since our best 
Ivnglish tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial 
and of no true musical delight; which consists only in apt num- 
bers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out 
from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like 
enflings— a fault avoided by the learned ancients both in poetry 
and all good oratory. This neglect then of rime so little is to be 
taken for a defect, though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar 
readers, that it rather is tfj be esteemed an example set, the first 
ill ICnglish, of ancient liberty recovered to heroic poem from the 
troublesome and modern bondage of riming. 



'rill': MRS'!- ]'.()( )K 

Till-. Akoumknt.— This First liook proposes, first in brief, the 
whole subject— Man's flisobeflience, and the loss thereupon of Para- 
dise, whorein he was placed: then touches the prime cause of his 
fall— the Serpent, or rather Satan in the Serpent; who, revolting 
from God, and drawing to his side many legions of Angels, was, by 

89 



uo JOHN Mii/roN booki 

the connn.iiHl of (Iml, (lri\ iii out ol llravoii, with all ins crow, into 
tlio yjroat Deep. Wliicli action passed ovei-, the I'oein hastes into 
(lie midst i>f lliiiiKs", lireseiitinj^ Satan, with iiis Angels, now fallen 
into Hell -descrihed lieie not in the Centre (for heaven and earth 
may be siipposeii as \ et not maile, certainly not yet aeeiiised), bnt 
in a i)laee of utter darltiK'SS, (itliest called Chaos. Here Satan, with 
his Angels lyin,v; on t he bnrnini; lake, tlumdersirnek ami astonisheil 
.ifler a certain siiace recovers, as from confusion; calls up him who, 
next in ortler and dignity, lay by him: they confer of their miserable 
fall. Satun awakens all his leK'ions, who lay till then in the same 
manner confoiimled. They rise: their numbers; array of battle; 
their chief leaders named, aecording to the iilols known afterwards 
m Canaan and the countries adjoininj;;. To these Satan ilirects his 
speech; comforts them willi hope yet of regaininv; Heaven; but tells 
them, lastly, of a new world and new kind of creature to l>e created, 
aeconliiijj tv> an ancient prophecy, or report, in Ueaven—for that 
Angels were tonj"' before this visible creation was the opinion of 
many ancient Fathers. To liiul <>nt the trnlh of ihis piopheey, and 
what to determine thereon, he rdtis to .1 full eonneil. What his 
ussocialt'S thence atlenipt. I'anilenioninin, tlu- palace o( Satan, rises, 
Slldilenly bliill out ol the Peep: the inlet nal I'eers there sit in 
council. 

01'' M \N',S Inst (lisohedioitoo, aiul tlie I'niit 
()|' llial forltiiltlon tree wlmsc inoiial l;isk" 
l>n)n^lit (lentil into the World, ;iiul all mtr woe, 
Willi Kiss of luleii, till one i;ieater Man 
R(.-stoie lis. ;iiul roj^ain (lie bliss! ill Seat, 
Siii!^. lloaveiily Mtist, lliat, on the sccrol top 
0\' Oivh, or of Sinai, didst inspire 
That Shepherd who first tanj^hl the ehoscn seed 
In the bei^iiiniii!,;- how the heavens and eai tli 
Rose out of (."Ikios: or, if Sion hill 
Deli.i^ht thee iiu^re. and Siloa's hrook lluit flowed 
Vast liy the oriiele o\ Clod, 1 thenee 
Invoke thy aiil to my advent rotis soul;. 
That with no middle llij^ht intends to .soar 
.'\hove the .\i>inan motint. while it jnirsiies 
Thini;s tinaltempteil yet in prose or rhyme. 
Ami ehielly 1'hoti. O Sjnrit, that dost prefer 
Before all tempU\s the iiprij;ht heart ami pure, 
Iiistrttct mo. for Tho*t know'st; Thoti from tlie first 
Wast present, and. with inij^hty winijs outspread. 
Dove-like sat'st broodin,;::: on the vast Abyss, 
And inad'st it pregnant : what in me is dark 



HOOK I PARADISE F.OST 9J 

Illumine, what is low raise and stipport; 
That, to the highth of this great argument, 
I may assert Eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of (jod to men. 

Say first — for Heaven hides nothing from thy view. 
Nor the deep tract of Hell — say first what cause 
Moved our grand J'arents, in that hapi>y stale, 
l''av(jured of Heaven so highly, to fall off 
i'Vom their Creator, and transgress his will 
For one restraint, lords of the World besides. 
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? 

The infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile, 
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived 
The mother of mankind, what lime his pride 
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host 
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring 
To set himself in glory above his peers. 
He trusted to have equalled the Most High, 
If he opposed, and^ with ambitious aim 
Against the throne and monarchy of Clod, 
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud. 
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Tower 
Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky, 
With hideous ruin and combustion, flown 
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell 
In adamantine chains and j)enal fire. 
Who durst defy the f)mni])otent to arms. 

Nine times the space that measures day and night 
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew, 
Lay vanquished, rowling in the fiery gulf, 
Confounded, though inmiortal. I?ut his doom 
Reserved him to more wrath ; for now the thought 
Tifjth of lost hapjjiness and lasting pain 
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes, 
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay. 
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. 
At once, as far as Angel's ken, he views 
The dismal situation waste and wild. 
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round. 
As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames 



92 JOHN MILTON hook l 

No light; but rather darkness visible 

Served oiiely to discover sights of woe, 

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 

And rest can never dwell, hojie never conies 

That comes to all, httt torture witluiut end 

Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed 

With ever-huruing sulphur nnconsunied. 

Such place h^ternal justice had prepared 

For those rebellious; here their prison ordained 

In utter darkness, and their portion set. 

As far removed from God and light of Heaven 

As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole. 

Oh how tmlike the jilace from whence they fell ! 

There the companions of his fall, o'ervvhelmed 

With Hoods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, 

lie soon discerns; and. weltering by his side. 

One next himself in power, and next in crime, 

Long after known in Palestine, and named 

Beei.zeiu)!?. To whom tlie Arch-Enemy, 

And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words 

Breaking the liorrid silence, thus began: — 

"1 f thou beest he — but (^h how fallen ! how changed 
Fnmi him ! — who, in the happy realms of light. 
Clothed with transceuilent brightness, didst outshine 
Myriads, though bright — if he whom mutual league, 
United thoughts and counsels, ccjual hope 
Antl hazard in the glorious enterprise. 
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined 
In equal ruin ; into what pit thou secst 
From what highth fallen : so much the stronger proved 
He with his thunder: and till then who knew 
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those, 
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage 
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change, 
TIuMigb changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind. 
And high distlain from sense of injureil merit. 
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend, 
And to the fierce contention brought along 
Innumerable force of Spirits armed. 
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring. 



BOOK I 



PARADISE LOST 93 

His utmost power with adverse power opposed 

In dubious battle on tlic plains of Heaven, 

And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? 

All is not lost — the unconquerable will, 

And study of revenge, immortal hate, 

And courage never to submit or yield: , 

And what is else not to be overcome. 

1"hat glory never shall his wrath or might 

Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace 

With suppliant knee, and deify his power 

Who, from the terror of this arm, so late 

Doubted his empire— that were low indeed; 

That were an ignominy and shame beneath 

This down fall /since, by fate, the strength of Gods, 

And this empyreal substance, cannot fail ; 

Since, through experience of this great event, 

In arms not worse, in foresight nuich advanced, 

We may with more .successful hope resolve 

To wage by force or guile eternal war, 

Irreconcilable to our grand Foe, 

Who now triumphs', and in the excess of joy 

Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven." 

So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain, 
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair; 
And hiiji thus answered soon his bold Compeer: — 

"O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers 
That led the embattled Seraphim to war 
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds 
Fearless, endangered Heaven's i)crpetual King, 
And put to ])roof his high supremacy, 
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate ! 
Too well I see and rue the dire event 
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat, 
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host 
In horrible destruction laid thus low, 
As far as Gods and 1 feavenly Essences 
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains 
Invincible, and vigour soon returns, 
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state 
Here swallowed up in endless misery. 



94 JOHN MILTON book i 

But what if He our Conqueror (whom I now 

Of force believe almighty, since no less 

Than such could have o'erpowered such force as ours) 

Have left us this our spirit and strength entire, 

Strongly to suffer and support our pains. 

That we may so suffice his vengeful ire, 

Or do him mightier service as his thralls 

By right of war, whate'er his business be, 

Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire, 

Or do errands in the gloomy Deep? 

What can it then avail though yet we feel 

Strength undiminished, or eternal being 

To undergo eternal punishment ?" 

Whereto with speedy words the Arch-Fiend 
replied : — 
"Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable. 
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure — 
To do aught good never will be our task. 
But ever to do ill our sole delight. 
As being the contrary to His high will 
Whom we resist. If then his providence 
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, 
Our labour nmst be to pervert that end. 
And out of good still to find means of evil; 
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps 
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb 
His inmost counsels from their destined aim. 
But see ! the angry Victor hath recalled 
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit 
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail. 
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid 
The fiery surge that from the precipice 
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder, 
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage. 
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now 
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep. 
Let tis not slip the occasion, whether scorn 
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe. 
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild. 
The seat of desolation, void of light. 



BOOK I PARADISE LOST 95 

Save what the glimmering of these livid flames 
Casts pale and dreadful ? Thither let us tend 
From off the tossing of these fiery waves ; 
There rest, if any rest can harbour there ; 
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, 
Consult how we may henceforth most offend 
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair, 
How overcome this dire calamity, 
What reinforcement we may gain from hope. 
If not what resolution from despair." 

Thus Satan, talking to his nearest Mate, 
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes 
That sparkling blazed ; his other parts besides 
Prone on the flood, extended long and large, 
Lay floating many a rood^ in bulk as huge 
^ As whom the fables name of monstrous size, 
Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove, 
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den 
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast 
Leviathan, which God of all his works 
Created hugest that swim the ocean-stream. 
Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam. 
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff, 
Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell. 
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind. 
Moors by his side under the lee, while night 
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays. 
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay, 
Chained on the burning lake ; nor ever thence 
Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will 
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven 
Left him at large to his own dark designs, 
That with reiterated crimes he might 
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought 
Evil to others, and enraged might see 
How all his malice served but to bring forth 
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn 
On Man by him seduced, but on himself 
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured. 
Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool 



96 JOHN MILTON BOOK I 

His mighty stature; on each hand the flames 
Driven backward slope their pointing spires, and, 

rowled 
In billows, leave i' the midst a horrid vale. 
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight 
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air, 
That felt unusual weight ; till on dry land 
He lights — if it were land that ever burned 
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire, 
And such appeared in hue as when the force 
Of subterranean wind transports a hill 
Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side 
Of thundering ^tna. whose combustible 
And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire. 
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds. 
And leave a singed bottom all involved 
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole 
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next Mate ; 
Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood 
As gods, and by their own recovered strength, 
Not by the sufferance of supernal power. 

"Is this the region, this the soil, the clime," 
Said then the lost Archangel, " this the seat 
That we must change for Heaven? — this mournful 

gloom 
For that celestial light? Be it so, since He 
Who now is sovran can dispose and bid 
What shall be right : fardest from Him is best, 
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme 
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, 
Where joy forever dwells ! Hail, horrors ! hail, 
Infernal World ! and thou, profoundest Hell, 
Receive thy new possessor — one who brings 
A mind not to be changed by place or time. 
The mind is its own place, and in itself 
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. 
What matter where, if I be still the same. 
And what I should be, all but less than he 
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least 
We shall be free ; the Almighty hath not built 



r 



BOOK I PARADISE LOST 97 

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: 
Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice, 
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell : 
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. 
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, 
The associates and co-partners of our loss, 
Lie thus astonished on the oblivious pool. 
And call them not to share with us their part 
J.n this unhappy mansion, or once more 
With rallied arms to try what may be yet 
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell ?" 

So Satan spake; and him Beelzebub 
Thus answered :— "Leader of those armies bright 
Which, but the Omnipotent, none could have foiled! 
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge 
Of hope in fears and dangers— heard so oft 
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge 
Of battle, when it raged, in all assaults 
Their surest signal — they will soon resume 
New courage and revive, though now they lie 
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire. 
As we erewhile, astounded and amazed; 
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious hi'ghth !" 

He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend 
Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, 
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round. 
Behind him cast. The broad circumference 
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb 
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views 
At evening, from the top of Fesole, 
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, 
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe. 
His spear — to equal which the tallest pine 
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast 
Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand- 
He walked with, to support uneasy steps 
Over the burning marie, not like those steps 
On Heaven's azure ; and the torrid clime 
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire. 
Nathless he so endured, till on the beach 



JOHN MII/rON HOOK I 

or lli;i( inll;inu\l S(.;i he slooil. ;iiiil r.ilU-d 

His loj;it)ns Anj^cl l-'oniis, who lav I'litiaiuod 

Tliirk as autumnal leaves thai strow llie lMi)i)ks 

In N'allomhrosa. where the Ivlrmian shades 

llii;h over arched iuihtiwer; or siatteied sedi^e 

Alloal. when with lieree winds Orion armed 

llatli vexed (he Ke<l Sea eoast, whose waves o\ rllirew 

lUisiris and his Memphian eliivalrv. 

While with perfidious hatretl tliev pmsin>d 

The st)jonruers of (ioshen, wlio helield 

Imoiu the sale shore their lltvitini; eareases 

And lutiken ehariot wlieels. .So tliiek heslrowu, 

Ahjeel and h)st, lay these, ooverini; the Ihuul, 

Umler ama/ement of their hideous ehaiii^e. 

lie ealled so loud that all the hollow deep 

Of llell resounded : "I'riuei-s. roleulates. 

Warriors, the I'lowiM ot Heaven ome \ouis; now 

lost. 
If sueh astonishment as this ran sei/(> 
I'.ternal Spirits! ( )r have ye eln)sen this plaee 
After the (oil of hattle to repose 
^'o^u■ wearied virtue, for the ease you fuul 
To slnmher here, as in the vales of I leaven? 
Or in this ahjeet postmc h ivi- m- swoin 
To atUire the (.\)nt[uen)r, who now heholds 
t'henil) and Seraph rowlinj; in the Hood 
With scattered anus and ensi.qns, till anon 
llis swift pursuers fr»>ni I leaven j;ates «liscern 
The ailvanta^e, and. descendinj; tread us down 
Thus droopins;, or with linked thuuilerholls 
Transfix us (o the hotti)m of this i^ulf? — 
Awake, arise, ov he for ever fallen! " 

l'lu\ lu;ird, and were ahashed. ainl up they sprnii;^ 
llpon the wins;, as when men wont to watch. 
On duty sleeping;- finmd l\v whom (hev ilre.ul. 
Rouse and hestir themselves eie well .iwake. 
Nor dill they not perceive the evil plij^ht 
In which thy were. t>r the fierce pains not feel; 
^■et to their (.uMioral's voice they soon oheyod 
Immmer.ihle. As wlun the poteni rod 



BOOK I I'AKADISK LOST 99 

Of Aiiirani's son, in Egypt's evil day, 

Waved round llic coast, u|)-calU'd a pitchy cloud 

Of locusts, war])injj^ on the eask-ru wind. 

That o'er the realm of impious I'liaraoh liinig 

Tjke Nif^hl, and <Iarkeued all the laud of Nile; 

So numherless were those had Anj^els seen 

ILovcrinp on winjj luider the cope of IJell, 

'Twixt upi'tr, 11(1 her, and surrounding; fires; 

Till, as a si^jnal j^ivcn, the uplifted spear 

Of their j^real Sultan waviuj^ to direct 

Their course, in even halance down they light 

On Ihe firm hrimstone. and fill all the plain: 

A multitude like which the poitulous North 

I'oured never from her frozen loins to |>ass 

klwiic or the Dauaw, when her harharous sons 

(ami' like a deluge on tlie South, an<l spread 

Hencath (Jihraltar to the l.ihy.in sands. 

P'orthwith, from every s(piadron and each hand, 

The Iu'.kIs and leaders thither hast<' where stood 

Their great ( 'ounuander gofllike Shapes, and l-'orms 

ICxcelling Inunan ; princely Dignities; 

And i)()vvers that erst in 1 leaven sat on thrones. 

Though of their names in lleavenly records now 

P.c no nu'inoriai, Moiled oiH and rased 

l>y their rehellion from the I'ooks of Life. 

Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve 

(lOt them new names, till, wandering o'er the earth, 

Through (iod's high sufferance for the trial of man, 

I'y falsities and lies the greatest part 

()f mankind they corrupted to forsake- 

( iod thi'ir ("realor, and the invisihU- 

(Jlory of Ilim that made them to transform 

Oft to the image of a hrute, adorned 

With gay religions full r)f pomp and gold. 

And devils to adorn for deities: 

Then were they known to men hy various names, 

And various idols through the heathen world. 

Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who 
last, 
Roused from the slumhcr on that fiery couch, 



100 JOHN MILTON BOOK I 

At their great Emperor's call, as next in worth 
Came singly where he stood on the bare strand, 
While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof. 

The chief were those who, from the pit of Hell 
Roaming to seek their prey on Earth, durst fix 
Their seats, long after, next the seat of God, 
Their altars by His altar, gods adored 
Among the nations round, and durst abide 
Jehovah thundering out of Sion, throned 
Between the Cherubim ; yea, often placed 
Within His sanctuary itself their shrines, 
Abominations ; and with cursed things 
His holy rites and solemn feasts profaned, 
And with their darkness durst affront His light. 
First, Moloch, horrid King, besmeared with blood 
Of human sacrifice, and parents' tears ; 
Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, 
Their children's cries unheard that passed through fire 
To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite 
Worshiped in Rabba and her watery plain. 
In Argob and in Basan, to the stream 
Of utmost Arnon. Nor content with such 
Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart 
Of Solomon he led by fraud to build 
His temple right against the temple of God 
On that opprobrious hill, and made his grove 
The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence 
And black Gehenna called, the type of Hell. 
. Next Cheinos, the obscene dread of Moab's sons. 
From Aroar to Nebo and the wild 
Of southmost Abarim ; in Hesebon 
And Horonaim, Seon's realm, beyond 
The flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines. 
And Eleale to the Asphaltick Pool : 
Peor his other name, when he enticed 
Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile, 
To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe. 
Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged 
Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove 
Of Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate. 



BOOK I PARADISE LOST 101 

Till good Josiah drove them thence to Hell. 

With these came they who, from the bordering flood 

Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts 

Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names 

Of Baalim and Ashtaroth — those male, 

These feminine. For Spirits, when they please, 

Can either sex assume, or both ; so soft 

And uncompounded is their essence pure. 

Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, 

Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, 

Like cumbrous flesh ; but, in what shape they choose, 

Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure, 

Can execute their aery purposes. 

And works of love or enmity fulfil. 

For those the race of Israel oft forsook 

Their Living Strength, and unfrequented left 

His righteous altar, bowing lowly down 

To bestial gods ; for which their heads, as low 

Bowed down in battle, sunk before the spear 

Of despicable foes. With these in troop 

Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians called 

Astarte, queen of heaven, with cresent horns; 

To whose bright image nightly by the moon 

Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs ; 

In Sion also not unsung, where stood 

Her temple on the offensive mountain, built 

By that uxorious king whose heart, though large. 

Beguiled by fair idolatresses, fell 

To idols foul. Thantmuz came next behind. 

Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured 

The Syrian damsels to lament his fate 

In amorous ditties all a summer's day. 

While smooth Adonis from his native rock 

Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood 

Of Thammuz yearly wounded : the love-tale 

Infected Sion's daughters with like heat, 

Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch 

Ezekiel saw, when, by the vision led, 

His eye surveyed the dark idolatries 

Of alienated Judah. Next came one 

G HCIV 



102 JOHN Mii/roN HOOK i 

Wlu) iiumnuHl in o.hiksI. wluii tlu" oaplivo Ark 

Maimed his briito imago, lu.ul aiul Iiaiuls lopt olT, 

III his own loinph'. on the j^rimsel edj^e, 

Where he tell tlat am! shamed his \vorshi|)ers: 

l\ii^t>it his name, sea monster, upward man 

And ihnvnward fish; yet had his temple high 

Reareil in A/otns, dreaded lhrou_«;h the eoast 

( U" I'alestine. in (iath and AseaKm. 

And Aeearoii and (ia/a's irontier honnils. 

Ilim tollowed luinttwii, whose deli^htl'ul seat 

Was l.iir naiuaseiis, (M1 tlie lertile hanks 

Ol" Alil^ana aiul IMiarpliar, Ineiil streams. 

He alsti against the tiouse of (.Iml was hold: 

A leper oiiee lie lost, and i;aiiUHl a kinj>' — ■ 

Aha/, his sottish eoiKpieror, wh«>iii he drew 

(lod's altar ti> disparage and ilisplaee 

Vor one oi Syrian mode, whereon to hum 

Mis odious olTerini^s. and adore the gods 

W houi lu- had vaiupiished. Alter these appeared 

A eiew who, iituler names ol' oM renown 

(>,vi;7,v. Isis, ( >/i/.v, and their train 

With monstrous shapes and siireeries ahiised 

l^inatie l\i;ypt and her priests to seek 

Their waiulerini; j;oils disguised in hrutish forms 

Kather tli.in human. Nor did Israel seape 

The in feet ion, when their horroweil ijokl eomposed 

The e.ilf in (Ireh; and the lehel kiiij.: 

Pouhled that sin in luthel and in l\in, 

l.ikeniu!; his Maker tt> (he grazed o\ 

Jehovah, who. in one nis^ht. when he passeil 

l''roni l\iiypt marehini^". ecpialled with «Mie stroke 

r»oth her first horn and all her hleatini; ^ods. 

/><7/ij/ eanie last ; than whom a Spirit nuM'e lewd 

I'Vll not fron\ Heaven, ov more j;ri>ss io love, 

\'ioe for itself. To htnv no temple stood 

Or altar smoked; vet who more oft than ho 

In temples and at altars, when the priest 

Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who filled 

With lust at\d viidenee the hmise of lu>d? 

In courts and palaces he also reigns. 



I'MIADISK I.DSr 103 

And in luxurious ritii-s, wlurc llu" miiso 
Of ii<)( asriiitls aliovi- llu'ir Ktftii'sl towers, 
And iiijjiry and ontraj^c; and, wliin ni^lit 
DarUiiis tlic strerls, then wandei- forth the sons 
Of Belial, llown with iusohiut- and wine. 
Witness the streets of Sodom, and llial night 
In (iiheah, when the hosiiitaliie dom 
Exposed a matron, to aVoid w(»rse rape. 

These were the prime in order and in nii^^hl : 
The rest were long to tell; tliongh far rcn<ivvni(! 
The Ionian gods of javan's issue luld 
(iods, yet eonfessed later than I leaven and I'.aith, 
Their hoasted paicnts; lilnn. Heaven's first Ixirn, 
With his enorinons hiood, and hirthrighl seized 
\\y younger Sal urn: he from mightier Jove, 
llis own and ivlua's .son, like measure fouiwl ; 
So J(n>c tisurping reigned. Thesr, first in Crete 
And Ida known, iheiue on the snowy top 
Of eold ( )iymi)ns ruled the middle air. 
Their higln-sl ln'.iven ; or on the Delphian tlilf, 
Or in |)odona, and throtigh .ail the hounds 
Of Doric land; or who with .Saturn old 
I'Med over Adria to the llespi'ri.ui lields. 
And o'er the (Celtic roamed tlie tilmost Isles. 

All these and more e.aine lloeking; hut with looks 
Dowueast and damp; yet sueli wherein appeared 
( )I)StMUe some glimpse of joy to h.ive found (heir (liief 
Not in di'sp.iir, to have found tlu'inselves not lost 
III loss itself; whieh on his eounteiianee e.ast 
Like (louhtful hue. \U\\ he, his wonted pride 
Soon recollceliiig, with high words, that hore 
Semhiance of worth, not suhstanee, giiitly raised 
Tlu'ir fainting eouragi-, and dispelled tlu-ir fears: 
Then straight commands that, at the war like soimd 
()f trtnn|)ets hind and elarions, he npreared 
llis mighty standard. That proud honour ei.iiiiied 
A/.a/.el as his right, a Churnh tall: 
Who forthwith from the glittering staff imfurled 
The imperial ensign ; whieh, full high advanced, 
SIiou like a meteor streaming to the wind, 



104 JOHN MILTON book I 

With gems and golden lustre rich imblazed, 
Seraphic arms and trophies ; all the while 
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds: 
At which the universal host up-sent 
A shout that tore Hell's concave, and beyond 
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. 
All in a moment through the gloom were seen 
Ten thousand banners rise into the air, 
With orient colours waving: with them rose 
A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms 
Appeared, and serried shields in thick array 
Of depth immeasurable. Anon they move 
In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 
Of flutes and soft recorders — such as raised 
To highth of noblest temper heroes old 
Arming to battle, and instead of rage 
Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved 
With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; 
Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 
With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase 
Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain 
From mortal or immortal minds. , Thus they, 
Breathing united force with fixed thought. 
Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed 
Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil. And now 
Advanced in view they stand — a horrid front 
Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise 
Of warriors old, with ordered spear and shield. 
Awaiting what command their mighty Chief 
Had to impose. He through the armed files 
Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverse 
The whole battalion views — their order due, 
Their visages and stature as of Gods; 
Their number last he sums. And now his heart 
Distends with pride, and, hardening in his strength, 
Glories : for never, since created Man, 
Met such imbodicd force as, named with these. 
Could merit more than that small infantry 
Warred on by cranes — though all the giant brood 
Of Phlegra with the heroic race were joined 



BOOK I PARADISE LOST 105 

That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side 
Mixed with auxiliar gods ; and what resounds 
In fable or romance of Uther's son, 
Begirt with British and Armoric knights; 
And all who since, baptized or infidel, 
Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban, 
Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, 
Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore 
When Charlemain with all his peerage fell 
By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond 
Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed 
Their dread Commander. He, above the rest 
In shape and gesture proudly eminent, 
Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost 
All her original brightness, nor appeared 
Less than Archangel ruined, and the excess 
Of glory obscured : as when the sun new-risen 
Looks through the horizontal misty air 
Shorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon, 
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds 
On half the nations, and with fear of change 
Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shon 
Above them all the Archangel ; but his face 
Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care 
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows 
Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride 
Waiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast 
Signs of remorse and passion, to behold 
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather 
(Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned 
For ever now to have their lot in pain — 
Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced 
Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung 
For his revolt — yet faithful how they stood, 
Their glory withered ; as, when heaven's fire 
Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines. 
With singed top their stately growth, though bare, 
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared 
To speak ; whereat their doubled ranks they bend 
From wing to wing, and half enclose him round 



10() JOHN IWlI/rON HOOK I 

Willi ;ill Ills peers: Allciilidii held (lit-m imilo. 
'riiriec lie assiiyed, ;iiul llirice, in spile of seoni, 
'reins, sueli as Angels weep, Imrst forlli: al last 
Winds interwove with si,i;Iis foiiiul out tlii'ir way: — 

"() myriads of iiiimorlal Siiirils! O Powers 
Matrldess. lull willi llie Aliiiij;lity ! and llial strife 
Was not inulorioiis, though llie event was dire. 
As this plaee testifies, and tins dire cliaii^e. 
Ilatefiil to litter Uiit wlial power of mind, 
I'd! I'serin;; or presaj^iiij;', from the depth 
( )f kiiowK"d,i;e past or present, eoiild li;ive fe:iro(l 
Mow sneli nniteil foree of \^iH\s, how siuli 
As stood liice these, eoiiId vvcv know repulse? 
I'"or who e;in yet I)eliev»", Ihoiiidi after loss, 
Ihal all these puissant K'i^ions, whose (-xile 
llalh emptied I leaven, shall fail to leasiend. 
Sell laiseil. and repossess their native seat? 
l'"or ine, he witness all the host of Heaven. 
If eonnsels dilferenl, or danjur shunned 
Ivy mt>, have lost onr hopes. Unt he who reijjns 
Mon.ireh in I U-aviMi till then as one seenre 
.S;it on his thidiii-, iiphi"ld hv old repnli-, 
('onsen! or enstom. and his rei^al stale 
I'll! foilh at full, hilt still his slriMii;th eoneealed — 
Wliiih tempted onr altenipt, and wioiii;lil onr f;dl. 
llt'iieeforlh his miidit we Know, and Unow onr own. 
So as not either to provoke, or dicad 
New war provoked: onr liotter part remains 
To work in elose design, hy frand or ijnile, 
What foree elTiH'ted not ; that he no less 
At length from ns may find. Wlio overeomes 
Hv ftuee hath ovi'ri'onie hiit h:i1f his fo(\ 
vSpaee mav i>rodnei' new Worlds; wluMeof so rife 
Theri- went a fame in Heaven that He eri> lonq; 
Intended to erc>ate, and thi-rein phnit 
A i;(Mier;ilion whom his ehoiee regard 
Should favonr e(|n:il to tlio Sons of Heaven, 
'riiilher, if hnt to pry, shall hi- perhaps 
Onr first (Miiplion thither, or elsewhere; 
I'\m this infiin.il pit shall nevir \\oU\ 



I PA HA DISK LOST 107 

('a'lc'sti;il Spirils in lioiid.-ij^c, nor ilu- Abyss 
l.onn intik-r daikiu'ss rovrr. I'.iil lliosc lh()U},'lils 
I'^ill counsel nuisl ni.itnrc. rcaco is despaired ; 
l''or who can tliink siilmiission ? War, then, war 
( )|i(ii or inidcrslood, must be resolved." 
lie spake; and, to confirni bis words, out llcw 
Milbons of (laininj,' swords, (bawn from llie (hifjhs 
Of mij^lily (btrnbim; tbe snddm bla/e 
bar aroinid ilbunincd ilcll. Ilij^bly (bey ra^jed 
Aj^MinsI (be I lijjjbcsl and fierce willi j^ras|»ed arms 
( lasbed on Ibeir sotincbiiLT sbields Ibc (bn of war, 
llnrlinj^ (b-liance toward tbe vault of Heaven. 
'Ibere stood a bill not f,-ir, wbose ^riesly top 
I'.tlcbcd lire and rowlin^ smoke; the rest entire 
Sbon witb a >,dossy scurf midonbted s]^u 
'I'bat in bis womb was bid metallic nrv, 
Tbe work of sidpbur. 'riiitber, wiii>^('<l with sjjeed, 
A nmner(»iis biij^ad b.astcned : as wlien bands 
()f pioners, witb spade and pickaxe- armed, 
I'orerun tbe royal camp, to trem b a (iclrl. 
Or cast a rampart. Maninifin led lb< m on 
]Viain?non, tbe least erected Spirit tbal fell 
I'^rom llcivcn; foi even in lle.ivcn bis looks and 

tluMi^bts 
Were always downward bent, admiiinj^ more 
'I'be riches of I leaven's pavement, trodden ^<>](], 
Than anj^dit divine or holy else enjoyed 
In vision beatific. I'.y bim first 
Men also, and by su;^j.;estion tauj;bt, 
Ransacked the Centre, and witb im|»ions li.inds 
Rilled the bowels of (heir mother b'.-iitb 
b'or treasures better bid. .Soon had bis crew 
Opened into tin- bill a spacious wound, 
And dij.,f^-ed out ribs of ^'old. Let none ■idmire 
That riches j.;row in Nell; that soil may best 
Deserve tbe |)retious bane. And her let those 
Who br):isl in mortal tliiuf^'s, and wonderiuf,' tell 
Of I'.abel aii<I the works of IVlem])hian kin>;s, 
Learn how their j,M-e:itesl moinnnents of fame, 
And slreiif^'tb, and ;iil, .iic easily outdone 



108 JOHN MILTON HOOK I 

\\\ SiMiils roi>rol>a(o, aiul in an lunir 
Wliat ill an aj;o thoy. with incessant toil 
Aiiil liaiuls innninorahlo, soaioo porfonn. 
Nij^Ii on tlio plain, in many cells propareil. 
That niulornoatii hail veins oi liipiid (iro 
Slnioocl from tho lake, a soooiul nuiltitndo 
With wotulrons art foinuloil tho massy oro. 
Serving: caoh kind, and scummoil tho Inillion-ilross. 
A thinl as soon had fi>rmod within tho t;ronnd 
A various mould, and from tho hoiliiii;- colls 
By strango ciMivoyanco iillod oaoh holKnv nook; 
As in an orqan. ft\MU ono hlast of wind. 
To many a row oi pijios tho soniul hoard hroathos, 
.•\iu>n out of tho oarlh a fahric hnj;o 
Rose liko an exhalation, with tho souml 
Of duloot symphonies atul voices sweet- 
Built like a temple, where pilasters round 
Wore sot. ami Doric pillars overlaid 
\\ iih !;oldon architrave; nor did there want 
(."ornico or frieze, with hossy sculptures graven: 
The vooi was fretted gold. Not Habilon 
Nor great Alcairo such magnilicenco 
l''(luallod in all their glories, to inshrino 
Holus or Serapis their gods, or seat 
riioir kings, when .Ivgypt with Assyria strove 
In wealth and luxury. The ascending pile 
StiHul lixoil her stately highth; «nd straight the doors, 
Caponing their brazen folds, discover, wide 
Within her ample spaces o'er the smooth 
And level pavement: from the arched roof, 
IViulont hy subtle magic, many a row 
Oi starry lamjis and blazing cressets, fed 
With naphtha and asphaltus. yielded light 
As from the sky. The hasty multitude 
Admiring enteroil; and tho work some praise, 
And some the Architect. His hand was known 
In Heaven by many a towered structure high, 
Where sceptred .\ngels hold their residence. 
And sat as Princes, whom the suiireme King 
Exaltoil to sucli power, and gave to rule. 



BOOK I PARADISE LOST 109 

Each in his hierarchy, (lie Orders brijjht. 

Nor was his name unheard or iin.-id(jred 

In ancient firecce; and in Ausonian lanrl 

Men called hitn Mnlciher; anrl how he fell 

I'Vom Heaven they fahlerl, thrown by an^ry Jove 

Sheer o'er the crystal battlements: from nioin 

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 

A summer's day, and with the settinj^ sun 

Dropt from the zenith, like a fallin}^ star, 

On Lemnos, the /ligjcan isle. Thus they relate, 

Errin}?; for he with this rebellious rout 

l''ell lonj^ before; nor aiij^ht availed him now 

To have built in Heaven hij^h towers; nor did he scape 

By all his enj^ines, but was headlfjiit^ sent, 

With his industrious crew, to build in I kll. 

Meanwhile the winged Haralcls, by connnand 
Of sovran power, with awful ceremony 
And trumpet's sound, throughout the host ])roclaim 
A solemn council ff)rthwith to be held 
At Pand;emonium, the high capital 
Of Satan and his peers. Their summons called 
From every band and s(juarcd regiment 
Hy place or choice the worthiest : they anon 
With hundreds and with thousands troo])ing came 
Attended. All access was thronged; the gates 
And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall 
(Though like a covered field, where champions hold 
Wont ride in armerl, and at the Soldan's chair 
Defied the best of I'anim chivalry 
7>) mortal combat, or career with lance), 
Thick swarmed, both on the ground and in the air, 
Brushed with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees 
In spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus rides. 
Pour forth their populous youth about the hive 
In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers 
Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, 
The suburb of their straw-built citarlel. 
New rubbed with balm, ex])atiate, and confer 
Their state-affairs: so thick the aerie crowd 
Swarmed anrl were straitened ; till, the signal given. 



110 JOHN I\lli;rON uooK II 

lu-lioKl a wmuli-r ! Tlu-v Init now who si'i-iuod 

In ,i;ibnoss to surpass ICartli's ijiaiU sons. 

Now loss than smallest dwarls. in narrow room 

Thront; nnmhorloss -like tliat pyqiuoan raoo 

Movond tho Indian moutit ; or faorv elvos, 

W'liosc tuidni^ht rovols. hy a forest sido 

Or fountain, some helated peasant sees. 

Or dreams he sees, wliile overhead the Moon 

Sits arhitress. and nearer to the I'^uth 

\\ Iieels her pale eourse : they, on tlieir nnith and danco 

Intent, with joeond nuisie eharm his ear; 

At onee witii joy and fear his heart rehomuls. 

Thus ineorporeal Spirits to smallest forms 

ixedneed their shapes innnense. and were at large, 

TlnMitih without iiumher still, amidst the hall 

("•f (hat infern.d eomt. I'ut far within. 

And in (lieir own dinunsions like tliemselves. 

The i^reat Seraphie Lords and (."hernhini 

In elose reeess and seeret eonelave sat. 

A thousand demigods on golden seats, 

l-'reipient and full. After short silenee then. 

And snnnnons reail. the j;reat eonsnlt hegati. 



Till' SKCOND 1UHM< 

'1""mk AK(U'Mi-Nr.- 'Pho oonstillaliou In v;un. Satan dobatos wlu-tlier 
aiii^tlior b.'ittlo bo ti> bi> hazju'iloil for tlu- rooovory o( Moavou: some 
•idviso it, etliors dissu.'ide. A tliird propi>sal is proforivd. montioiiod 
lioft^ro bv Satan — to soaveh tlio tnitli of flial prophooy or tradition 
in Hojivi-n i.-(MU-ornin>;- anotlior worUl, and aniMlu-r kind of creature, 
equal, or not mnoh inferior, to tliomseUes, alnmt tliis time to be 
created. Tlieir doubt wlui shall be vsent on this ditlicuU search: 
Satan, their chief, midortal^es alone the voyage; is honoured and 
applauded. The coiuu-il thus ciuled, the rest betake them .several 
ways and to several ituployments, as their inclinations lead fheiu, to 
entertain the time till Satan retiu'u. He passes on his'; jtnirney to 
Hell gates; finds them shut, and who sat tlure to guard them; by 
whi>m at length tlu-y .are opencil, and discover to him the great 
gnlf between Hell and Heaven. With what difticulty he passes 
through, dirc-cted by Chaos, the Power o( that place, to the sight 
»>f this new World which he sought. 



IWXJK II PAKADISK LOST 111 

High on a throne of royal state, which far 

CJutshon the wealth oi Ormiis and of Iiul, 

Or where the i^or^itouH Kast with richest hand 

Showers on her kin^s harharic pearl and gold, 

Satan exalted sat, hy merit raised 

'\'() that had cniincnet-; and, from despair 

Thus hif(Ii uphfk-d lieyond htjpe, asjnres 

lU-youd thus hif^h, insatiate to pursue 

Vain war with Heaven; and, hy success untau^dit, 

ilis prf>ud imaf,Mnations thus displaye«l : — 

" Towers and Donn'nions, U(;ilies of Heaven! — 
I'or, since no deep within Ik.t ),Milf can lu;ld 
immorlal vij,'onr, lhouf,di oppressed and fallen, 
I }(ive not Heaven for lost: from this descent 
r'eicstial Virtues rising will apjiear 
More jilorious and more dread than from no fail. 
And trust themselves to fear no second fate! — 
Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven, 
Did first create yr)ur leader— n(;xt, free choice. 
With what hesirles in council cjr in fight 
Halh heen achieved of merit— yet this loss, 
Thus far at least recovered, hath nnicli more 
Estahlished in a safe, unenvied throne, 
Yieldefl with full consent. The happier state 
In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw 
f'jivy from each inferior; hut who here 
Will envy whom tin; highest j)lace exposes 
l''orenK)st to stand against the Tliunrlerer's aim 
Your htdwark, and condemns U> greatest share 
()i eiiflless pain? Where there is, then, no good 
I-'or which to strive, no strife can grow up there 
From faction: for none sure will claim in Hell 
Precedence; none whose portion is so small 
Of present pain that with amhitious mind 
Will covet more! With this advantage, then. 
To union, and firm faith, and firm aecord, 
More than can he in Heaven, we now return 
To claim our just inheritance of old, 
Surer to prosper than prosjjerity 
Could have assured us; and hy what hest way. 



112 JOHN MILTON book ii 

Whether of open war or covert guile, 

We now debate. Who can advise may speak." 

He ceased ; and next him Moloch, sceptred king. 
Stood up — the strongest and the fiercest Spirit 
That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair. 
His trust was with the Eternal to be deemed 
Equal in strength, and rather than be less 
Cared not to be at all ; with that care lost 
Went all his fear : of God, or Hell, or worse, 
He recked not, and these words thereafter spake : — 

" My sentence is for open war. Of wiles. 
More unexpert, I boast not : them let those 
Contrive who need, or when they need ; not now. 
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest — 
Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 
The signal to ascend — sit lingering here, 
Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame. 
The prison of His tyranny who reigns 
By our delay? No! let us rather choose, 
Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once 
O'er Heaven's high towers to force resistless way, 
Turning our tortures into horrid arms 
Against the Torturer; when, to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine, he shall hear 
Infernal thunder, and, for lightning, see 
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
Among his Angels and his throne itself 
Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 
His own invented torments. But perhaps 
The way seems difficult, and steep to scale 
With upright wing against a higher foe ! 
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still. 
That in our proper motion we ascend 
Up to our native seat ; descent and fall 
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear 
Insulting, and pursued us through the Deep, 
With what compulsion and laborious flight 



BOOK II PARADISE LOST 113 

We sunk thus low ? The ascent is easy, then ; 

The event is feared! Should we again provoke 

Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 

To our destruction, if there be in Hell 

Fear to be worse destroyed ! What can be worse 

Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned 

In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; 

Where pain of unextinguishable fire 

Must exercise us without hope of end 

The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 

Inexorably, and the torturing hour, 

Calls us to penance ? More destroyed than thus, 

We should be quite abolished, and expire. 

What fear we then ? what doubt we to incense 

His utmost ire? which, to the h'ighth enraged, 

Will either quite consume us, and reduce 

To nothing this essential — happier far 

Than miserable to have eternal being! — 

Or, if our substance be indeed divine. 

And cannot cease to be, we are at worst 

On this side nothing; and by proof we feel 

Our power sufificient to disturb his Heaven, 

And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 

Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne: 

Which, if not victory, is yet revenge." 

He ended frowning, and his look denounced 
Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous 
To less than gods. On the other side up rose 
Belial, in act more graceful and humane. 
A fairer person lost not Heaven ; he seemed 
For dignity composed, and high exploit. 
But all was false and hollow; though his tongue 
Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear 
The better reason, to perplex and dash 
Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low- 
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds 
Timorous and slothful. Yet he pleased the ear. 
And with persuasive accent thus began : — 

" I should be much for open war, O Peers, 
As not behind in hate, if what was urged 



114 JOHN MILTON BOOK II 

Main reason to pcrsnado iinmodiatc war 

Hid not ilissuado nic most, and scoin to cast 

Oniinons lonjcitnrc on the whole success; 

When he who most excels in fact of arms, 

In what he counsels and in what excels 

Mistrustful, grounds his courajje on despair 

And utter dissolution, as the scope 

(^f all his aim, after some dire revenue. 

I'irst. what rcvent;e? The towers of Heaven are filled 

With armed watch, that render all access 

lmpre};iial)le : oft on the horderinu; Peep 

Kncamj) their legions, or with obscure wing 

Scout far and wide into the realm of Night, 

Scorning surprise. Or, could we lueak om- way 

By force, and at our heels all Hell sIkuiM rise 

With blackest insurrection to confound 

Heaven's jnuest light, yot oiu" great iMiemy, 

All incorruptible, would on his throne 

Sit unpolluted, and the ethereal mould. 

Incapable of stain, would soon expel 

Her mischief, and purge off the baser tire, 

Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope 

Is flat despair : we must exasperate 

The Almighty Victor to spend all his rage: 

And that nuist end us; that must be our cure — 

To be no more. Sad cure ! for who wouKl lose, 

Though full of pain, this intellectual being. 

Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 

To perish rather, swallowed up and lost 

Tn tlie wide womb of uncreated Night. 

Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows. 

Let this be good, whether our angry luie 

Can give it, or will ever? How he can 

Is doubtful ; that he never will is sure. 

W'ill He, so wise, let loose at once his ire, 

Helike through impotence or unaware. 

To give his enemies their wi.sh, and end 

Then\ in his anger whom his anger saves 

To punish endless? 'Wherefore cease we, then?' 

Say they who counsel war ; ' we are decreed, 



HOOK i( PARADLSE LOST 115 

Reserved, and destiiud to eternal woe; 
Whatever doitij,', what can we suffer more, 

Wliat can we suffer worse?' Js this, tlien, worst 

Thus sittin},', tluis consullinj,^ tlius in arms? 

What when we (led amain, i>ursued and strook 

Witli Heaven's afllictinj,' thunder, and hesouglit 

The Deep to slielter us? Tliis Jlell then seemed 

A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay 

Chained on the hurning hike? Tiiat sure was worse. 

What if the hreath that kindled those grim fires, 

Awaked, shoukl l)k)w them into sevenfold rage, 

And plunge us in the flames; or from ahove 

Should internntled vengeance arm again 

His red right hand to plague us? What if all 

Her stores were opened, and this firmament 

Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, 

Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall 

One day upon our heads; whije we [jerhaps, 

Designing or exhorting glorious war, 

Caught in a fiery tempest, shall he hurled. 

Each on his rock transfixed, the sjiort and prey 

Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk 

Under yon hoi ling ocean, wrapt in chains. 

There .to converse with everlasting groans, 

Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved. 

Ages of hopeless end? This would he worse. 

War, therefore, open or concealed, alike 

My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile 

With Tfim, or whf) deceive His nn'nd, whose eye 

Views all things at one view? He from Heaven's 

highth 
All these our motioirs vain sees and derides, 
Not more almighty to resist our might 
Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. 
Shall we, then, live thus vile — the race of Heaven 
Thus trampled, thus expelled, to suffer here 
Chains and these torments? Better these than worse. 
By my advice; since fate inevitahle 
Suhdues us, and omnipotent decree, 
The Victor's will. To suffer, as to do. 



116 JOHN MII/rON BOOK u 

Our strength is C(|u;il ; nor \hv law unjust 

That so ordains. This was at tirst resolved, 

If we were wise, against so great a foe 

Contending, and so doubtful what might fall, 

1 laugh when those who at the spear are hold 

And ventrous, if that fail them, shrink, and fear 

What yet they know must follow — to endure 

Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain. 

The scntcnee of their conqueror. This is now 

Our doom; which if we can sustain and hear, 

Our Supreme Foe in time may such remit 

His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed, 

Not mind us not offending, satisfied 

With what is punished; whence these raging fires 

Will slacken, if his breath stir not their llames. 

Our purer essence then will overcome 

Their noxious vapour; or, inured, not feel; 

Or, changed at length, and to the i)laoe conformed 

In temper and in nature, will receive 

I'^amiliar the fierce heat; and void of pain, 

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light; 

Resides what hope the never-ending flight 

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change 

Worth waiting — since our present lot appears 

For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, 

If we procure not to ourselves more woe." 

Thus Fielial, with words clothed in reason's garb, 
Counseled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth. 
Not peace; and after him thus Mammon spake: — 

" Fither to disinthrone the King of Heaven 
We war, if war be best, or to regain 
Our own right lost. Him to unthrone we then 
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield 
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife. 
The former, vain to hope, argues as vain 
The latter ; for what place can be for us 
Within Heaven's bound, unless Heaven's Lurd Su- 
preme 
We overpower? Suppose he should relent. 
And publish grace to all, on promise made 



BOOK II FARADISK LOST 117 

()i new siil)jccli()ii ; will) wli.it (.■yvy, could wc 
Stand in Iiis prcsciuo liiiiiihic, aiul ifocivc 
Strict laws imposed, to cclc-jjiatc- his throne 
With warbled hymns, and (o his (lodhead sinf^ 
iHjrccd liallehiiahs, wiiile he lordly sits 
Our envied sovran, ami his altar hreathes 
Ambrosial odours and ambrosial (lowers, 
Our servile olTerin/^s? This must be our task 
In Heaven, this our delij^ht. I low wearisome 
I'llernily so spent in worship ])aid 
To whom we hate! Let us not (hen pursue, 
I'.y force impossible, by leave obtained 
Unacceptable, thouf^di in I leavin, oin- slate 
Of splendifl vassalage; but rather seek 
( )\\v own tjood from ourselves, and frum our own 
Live to ourselves, thoU]L;h in Ibis vast recess. 
Free and to none accountable, prefi'rrinjif 
/Hard libi-rty before the easy yoke 
()f servile ponijt.y Our {greatness will appear 
'i'hen most conspicuous when great lliings of siuall, 
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse, 
We can create, and in wliat place soe'er 
Thrive luider evil, and work ease out f)f i)ain 
Through laboiw and induranee. This deep world 
Of darkness do we dread? 1 low oft amidst 
Tlii(k clouds and dark doth Heaven's all-ruling Sire 
Choose to reside, his glory unobscured, 
And with the majesty of darkness round 
Covers his throfie, from whence deep tlnnidcrs roar, 
Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell! 
As Tie our darkness, cannot we Mis light 
Imitate when we please? This desart soil 
Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold ; 
Nor want we skill ov art from whence to raise 
Magnificence; and what can Heaven shew more? 
Our torments .also may, in length of time, 
Hecoine our elements, these piercing fires 
As soft as now severe, our temper changed 
Into their temper; which nuist needs remove 
The sensible of [)ain. All things invite 
u nciv 



118 JOHN MILTON book li 

To peaceful counsels, and the settled state 
Of order, how in safety best we may 
Compose our present evils, with regard 
Of what we are and where, dismissing quite 
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise." 

He scarce had finished, when such nun-mur filled 
The assembly as when hollow rocks retain 
The sound of blustering winds, which all night long 
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull 
Seafaring men o'erwatched, whose bark by chance, 
Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay 
After the tempest. Such applause was heard 
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased, 
Advising peace : for such another field 
They dreaded worse than Hell ; so much the fear 
Of thunder and the sword of Michael 
Wrought still within them ; and no less desire 
To found this nether empire, which might rise. 
By policy and long process' of time. 
In emulation opposite to Heaven. 
Which when Beelzebub perceived — than whom, 
Satan except, none higher sat — with grave 
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed 
A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven 
Deliberation sat, and public care; 
And princely counsel in his face yet shon, 
Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood. 
With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear 
The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look 
Drew audience and attention still as night 
Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake :— ^ 

" Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of 
Heaven, 
Ethereal Virtues ! or these titles now 
Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called 
Princes of Hell ? for so the popular vote 
Inclines — here to continue, and build up here 
A growing empire; doubtless ! while we dream. 
And know not that the King of Heaven hath doomed 
This place our dungeon — not our safe retreat 



BOOK II PARADISE LOST 119 

Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt 

From Heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league 

Banded against his throne, but to remain 

In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, 

Under the inevitable curb, reserved 

His captive multitude. For He, be sure. 

In highth or depth, still first and last will reign 

Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part 

By our revolt, but over Hell extend 

His empire, and with iron sceptre rule 

Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven. 

What sit we then projecting peace and war? 

War hath determined us and foiled with loss 

Irreparable ; terms of peace yet none 

Voutsafed or sought ; for what peace will be given 

To us enslaved, but custody severe, 

And stripes and arbitrary punishment 

Inflicted? and what peace can we return, 

But, to our power, hostility and hate, 

Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow, 

Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least 

May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice 

In doing what we most in suffering feel? 

Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need 

With dangerous expedition to invade 

Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, fj O^^,^ 

Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find 

Some easier enterprise? There is a place 

(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven 

Err not) — another World, the happy seat 

Of some new race, called Man, about this time 

To be created like to us, though less 

In power and excellence, but favoured more 

Of Him who rules above ; so was His will 

Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath 

That shook Heaven's whole circumference confirmed. 

Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn 

What creatures there inhabit, of what mould 

Or substance, how endued, and what their power 

And where their weakness ; how attempted best. 



120 JOHN MM -TON MOOK II 

]\\ fdfci" or snlilloly. 'riioiivji I K-avi-n ho sliiil. 
Anil lli;i\rn's lni;li Avliitrator sit sih-uio 
111 his nun si length, ihis phiro niav hi- exposed, 
'I'lu' nlin\>sl lionlrr of his kin,mloni, lel'l 
To tl\i'if (!('li lur who hold il : hrn', pi'ihaps, 
Sonu- a(l\ anlajH-ons ael nia\ In- achirved 
Hy sinMiMi onset I'ilhei with I lell lire 
To waste liis whole iiealion, or |)ossess 
All as otir own. and drive, as we are dii\en, 
The puny liahil.nits; or, if nol dri\e, 
Sediiee iheni |o onr pail\. thai (heir (iml 
M.iy pio\e Iheir loe, and with repentini; haiul 
Ahohsh his own works. This wonld surpass 
Common re\en;u\ and inli'irniit llis joy 
In onr eonlnsion, and oni- )o\' npraise 
ill llis dislnih.mee ; when his dailini; sons, 
II tilled headlonj; to partake with us, shall eiuso 
Their frail orij;iii;il. and fadeil hliss — 
l'"ade(l St) soon! Advise if this he worth 
Atli'iiipliii^, or to sil in darkness here 
llatehint; \ain empires." Thus Keel/.ehuh, 
rieaded his devilish eonnsol — first devised 
I'v Satan, .nid in part proposed: for whence, 
r.nt fiom the .uilhor of all ill, eould sprinj;' 
So deep a maliee, to eon found the raee 
(M" m,\nkind in one rot^t, and h'arth with llell 
To niiuj^le aiul involve, dime .ill to spile 
The .yreat (.'reator? I*ut their spite still serves 
llis ,i;loiy to ;ui!;iueiit. The hoKI iK-sij^n 
Pleased hi!;hly those lufern.d States, and joy 
Sparkled in all their eyes: with full .issenl 
riuv vote: whereat his speeeh he thus renews: — 
" \\ ell have ye judj^ed. well ended louj; ilehate, 
Synod of liods. ;ind. like to what ye are, 
Cre;it thiiif;s resolved, which from the lowest ileep 
Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate. 
Nearer our aucieut Seat- perhaps in view 
(If those hiii^ht courmes, whence, with nei^hhouriuq; 

arms, 
.\nd opportune excursion, we may chance 



HOOK II J'AHADISI'', I-OSr 121 

Ivc ciiUt llf.'iviMi; or clsi- in sonic mild zoiio 

Dvvi'll, iiol tmvisilrd of I leaven's fair li>;lit, 

Sccuri'. and al tlio hrij^Iik'niiij; orient beam 

I'nrj^e off tills j^looin: the soft delicious air, 

To heal llie seal" of these eorrosive fires, 

Shall Iiicaihe lier halni. r.til, lirst, whom shall vve 

send 
In seareh of this new World? wIkhii shall we hnd 
SlinK'ieiit ? vvho shall tempt with wanderim; feet 
The dark, uiiholtomed, iniiiiite Abyss, 
And throujj^h the palpable obseiire liiid out 
Mis uneouth way, oi" spread his .lerie ilij^ht, 
U])loorne with indefatij^able wiiij;s 
( )vi'r the vast Al)rui)t, ere he arrive 

The happy Isle? What strenj;tli, what art, eaii llun 
SiiHiee, or what evasion bear him safe 
Through the striel senli-ries and sl.ilions lliirk 
Of Ani;els watchinj;' round? Mere he had iii-ed 
All eireiimspeetioii : and we now no less 
Choiee in our snl'frai^e; for on whom we send 
The weight of all, and our last hope, relies." 

This said, he sat; and expectation held 
llis look suspense, awaitiiii; who appealed 
'i'n second, or (ip|)ose, or mideilake 
The perilous :illcmpl. Itiil all sal mnti-, 
roiidrriii!; the daii!_;er willi deep llion.nhls; and <M(Ii 
In olher's counlenanee read his own dismay. 
Astonished. None amoiij^ the choice ;ind prime 
Of those Mcaveii warrinj^ champions i-oiild be found 
So hardy as to proITer or accept. 
Alone, the drcidful voyaj^e ; till, al last, 
.S;ilan, whom now trausccdent f^dmy r.iised 
Above his fellows, with iiionarclial jiride 
Conscious of hif^hest worth, nnmovi-d thus spake: — 

"() Prof^eiiy of Ile.'iveii! luiipyreal Thrones! 
With reason bath tieep silence and deiiAir 
Seized us, though undismaved. l-oni; is llie way 
And hard, Ib.al out of Hell leads up lo l.iKht. 
Our prison stroii^,^ this hii^^f convex of lire, 
Outrageous to devour, immnies us round 



122 JOHN MIi;rON BOOK II 

Ninefold; and gates of burniiii; adamant, 
Barred over us, prohiliit all egress. 
These passed, if any pass, tlie void profound 
Of unessential Night receives him next. 
Wide-gaping, and with utter loss of heing 
Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf. 
If theuce he scape, into whatever world. 
Or unknown region, what remains him less 
Than unknown dangers, autl as hard escape? 
But 1 should ill become this Ihroue. () Peers, 
And this imperial sovranty, adorned 
With splemlour. armeil with power, if auglit proposed 
And judged of public moment in the sliape 
Of ditViculty or danger, could deter 
Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume 
These royalties, and not refuse to reign, 
Refusing to accept as great a share 
Of hazard as of honour, due alike 
To him who reigns, and so much to him due 
Of hazard more as he alwve the rest 
High honoiued sits ? Co. therefore, mighty Powers, 
Terror of Heaven, though fallen; intend at home. 
While here shall be our home, what best may ease 
The present misery, and render Hell 
More tolerable; if there be cure or charm 
To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain 
Of this ill mansion: intermit no watch 
Against a wakeful l"\)e. while 1 abroad 
ThrougI\ all the coasts of dark destruction seek 
Deliverance for us all. This enterprise 
None shall partake with me." Thus saying, rose 
The Monarch, and prevented all reply ; 
Prudent lest, from his resolution raised, 
< Others among the chief might ot^'er now, 
\Certain to be refusetl, what erst they feared, 
And, so refused, might in opiniou stand 
His rivals, wimiiug cheap the high repute 
Which he through hazard huge nuist earn. But they 
Dreaded not more the adventure than his voice 
Forbidding; and at once with him they rose. 



BOOK II PARADISE LOST 123 

Their rising all at once was as the sound 
Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend 
With awful reverence prrjne, and as a Ciod 
Extol him cf|ual to the Highest in Heaven. 
Nor failed they to express how much they ])raised 
That for the general safety he despiserl 
ilis own: for neither rlo the Spirits damned 
Lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast 
Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, 
Or close ambition varnished o'er with zeal. 
Thus they their doubtful consultations dark 
>, Ended, rejoicing in their matchless Chief: 
.A As, when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds 
Ascending, while the North-winrl sleeps, o'ersi)read 
Heaven's cheerful face, the louring element 
Scowls o'er the darkened lantskip snow or shower, 
H chance the radiant sun, with farewell s«/eet. 
Extend his evening beam, the fiekls revive. 
The birds their notes renew, anrl bleating herds 
Attest their joy, that hill and valb^y rings. 
O shame to men ! Devil with devil flamned 
l^'irm concord hokls ; men <jnly rlisagree 
Of creatures rational, though under hope 
Of heavenly grace, and, God proclaiming peace, 
Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife 
Among themselves, and levy cruel wars 
Wasting the earth, each other to destroy: 
As if (which might induce us to accord) 
Man had not hellish foes enow besirles. 
That day and night for his destruction wait ! 

The Stygian council thus dissfjlved ; anfl forth 
In order came the graiKl infernal Peers: 
Midst came their mighty Paramount, and seemed 
Alone the Antagonist of Heaven, nor less 
Than Hell's dread Emperor, with pomp supreme, 
And god-like imitated state: him round 
A gifjbc of fiery .Seraphim incloserl 
With bright imblazonry, and horrent arms. 
Then to their session enrled they bid cry 
With trumpet's regal sound the great result : 



124 JOHN Ml I /ION BOOK II 

TowMiil till' loui- winds lour spcoily (."honibiin 
I'ut to tlu'ir mouths tho scnuuliui;- alchymy, 
Uy liaraKl's voice oxplaiui'il ; tlio hollow Abyss 
lloaiil far and widi-. and all (ho host of Ikdl 
With doafouiuij' shout rcturuod thciu K)ud acclaini. 
'riicuco uun\- at oaso tlu-ir luiiuls, and soiucwhat raised 
liy false i>resuuii)tuous hope, tiie landed l\nvers 
l")ishand ; aiid. waiulcriu^.^. eaeh his several way 
]\u"snes, as inelinatioii or sad ehoiee, 
Leads hiui perplexeil, where he may likeliest liml 
'Truee lo his restless thoughts, and entertain 
The irksome hours, till his threat Chief return. 
Part on the jilain, or in the air sublime. 
U])on the wint^" or in swift race eonteuil. 
As at the Olympian games or Pythian fields; 
Tart eurb their tlery steeds, or shun the tjoal 
\\ ilh i;ipid wheels, or fronted bris^ads form: 
As when, to warn proud cities, war appears 
Waited in the tmubled sky, and armies rush 
To battle in the clmuls; before eaeh van 
Trick forth the aerie knii^bts, and ccnicb their spears, 
Till thickest k\i;ions close; with feats of arms 
i"'rom either end of heaven the welkin burns. 
Others, with vast Typlnean ra_t;e. more fell, 
l\end up both rocks and hills, anil ride the air 
In w hiilw ind ; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar: — 
.As when Alcides, from U'".chaUa crow ncil 
With con([Uest. felt (he envenc^ned robe, and tore 
ThriMigb pain up by the roots Thessalian pines. 
And l.ichas from the top of (ICta threw 
Into the haiboic sea. Others, more mild. 
Retreated in a silent valley, sinj; 
W'ith notes angelical to many a harii 
Their own heroic decils, and hapless fall 
r>y doom of battle, and complain that Fate 
Free Virttjc should enthrall to l""orce or Chance. 
Their song was par(ial; but (he harmony 
(What could it less when .Spirits innnortal sing?) 
( Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment 
The thri>nging audience. In discourse more sweet 



HOOK II PARA DISK LOST 125 

(For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense) 

Others apart sat on a hill rctircrl, 

Iti thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high 

Of IVfjvidence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate — 

]'"ixed fate, free will, forekiiowl(;dge absolute — 

And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. 

()i good and evil much they argued then, 

Of happiness and final misery, 

Passion and apathy, and glory and shame : 

Vain wisdom all, and false philoso]jhy! — 

Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charm 

Pain for a while or anguish, and excite 

I-allacious ho]H', or arm the ohdurerl breast • 

With stuhhorn patience as with trijile steel. 

Another part, in squadrons and grcjss banrls, 

(jn hold adventure to discover wide 

That dismal world, if any clime perhaps 

Might yielfl them easier habitation, bend 

J'our ways their flying march, along the banks 

(Jf four infernal rivers, that disgorge 

Into the burning lake their baleful streams — 

Abhorred Stjx, the flood of deadly hate; 

Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep ; 

(>)cytus, named of lamentation loud 

Heard on the rueful stream; fierce I'hlegeton, 

Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. 

Far off from these, a slow and silent stream, 

Lethe, the river of oblivion, rowls 

1 (er watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks 

h'orthwith his former state and being frjrgets — 

I'orgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. 

I'eyond this floor] a frozen continent 

Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms 

Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land 

Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems 

Of ancient pile ; all else deep snow and ice, 

A gulf |)rofound as that Serbonian bog 

I'jetwixt Uamiata and Mount Casius okl, 

Where armies whole have sunk: the j^arching air 

Burns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire. 



12() JOHN Mii;i'()N iH)UK II 

Tliillu'i, Ity liMrpv fodlcil I'lirics li.tlnl, 

Al (■( rl;iiii ri'voliilitiiis all tlir (laiimrd 

Aw 1)ioiil;Ii( ; and fori by Imiis tlio l)il(«i rliani;i' 

Of Wvvcc cxtrrmos, extremes l)y elianm' uu)\r liercc, 

I'tom l)C(Is <tf raj^inj^ fire to starve in ice 

Tluir soft etl\ereal warinlh. and (here lo pine 

IniniovaliK', infixed, and frozen rotind 

I'ei iods of time, tlienee hurried haek lo lire. 

Tlu y feriy ovt'r lliis l.(>tlu\'in sonnd 

Uolli lo and fro, their sorrow to augment, 

Ami wish .nid strn^j^le, as they pass, to r^"al•h 

riu' leniptinq stream, with one small drojt (o lose 

In sweet forget fnhn-ss .ill pain and woe, 

All in one moment, .and so mar the hrink ; 

Unl h'ate withstands, .and. lo oppose tlir atlcmpt. 

Meilnsa with ( loij;onian lerror j;naitls 

The fold, and of itself the wati-r Hies 

All taste o( livint; wiijht, .is onec it lied 

The lip of rantahis. Thus rovins; on 

In eonfnsi'd marili forlorn, tlu- adventrons hand.s, 

V\ ilh slmddciini; horroi p.dr, and eves ai;hasl. 

Viewed lirst tluu l.iinciil ihK- lot. and found 

No rest, riironj^h ni.iny a d.iik .ind die.iiy vale 

They passt-d, and many .i region dolorous. 

O'er ni.iny ;i frozen, m.my a liery Alp, 

Koeks, e.ivi's, l.ikes. fens, hoi^s, dens, and shades of 

de.ith 
A nnivt'rse of dr.ilh. wliieh ( iod hv enrse 
('rt>,iti'd evil, for evil only ,U"""'> 

Where all life dies, dt>ath lives, .ind Natinc luei-ds, 
IVrversc. all nionslrons. ,ill prodii;.ions lliim^s. 
Ahominahle, inulteiaMe. and worse 
Than fables v»'l h.ivi- frii^ned or fear eoiieeived, 
(lorj^ons, and Hydras, ami 1,'himaras dire. 

Me.aiuvhile the Advi'rsary of (Iod aiu! Man, 
,'>atan, with thonj^hls inilanu-d of hii;liest desii^n, 
I'nts on swift winj;s. and tow.ird the scales of Nell 
l'"\ploies his .solitary llii;ht : sonu-times 
lie seonrs the ri^lit li.ind eoast. sometimes the lift ; 
Ni>w shaves with level wini; the l>i'ep. then soars 



HOOK II PAHADISK LOST 127 

Up lo llic fiery (•(nuavc lowciiii); liij^li. 

As when far oil at sea a lln-t (leseried 

llaiif^s ill Uic clouds, I)y a'(|iiino(:tial winds 

Close sailing from JJcnj^ala, <jr the isles 

Of Teriiate and 'J'idoie, wlieiue iiiercliants hriiiff 

Their spicy drufjs; they on the tradiiifj l1o(»d, 

ThrouKh the wide IClhiopian to the (.'ape, 

I'ly sl^•lnnlin^( nij^lilly toward the pole: so seemed 

I'ar off the llyin^ hii-nd. At last a|)p< ar 

Nell hounds, hi^h reat hiii); to the horrid roof, 

And thrice threefold the j^ales; three folds were hrass, 

'I liree iron, three of adamantine rock, 

Impenetrahle, imjialed with circlinf^ fire. 

Yet nneousumed. Mefore the f,'ales there sat 

On either side a forniidahle Shajx-. 

The one seemed a woman to the waist, and fair, 

liul ended fold in many a scaly fold, 

Vohiminoiis and vast—a serpen! armed 

With niorlal slin^'. Ahoiit her middle round 

A ( ry of Hell hounds never ceasiiif^ haikid 

With wide ( crherean months full loud, and riiiiK 

A hideous peal; yet, when they list, would creep. 

If alight distnrhed their noise, into her womh, 

And kennel there; yet there still harked and howled 

Within unseen. h"ar less ahhorred than these 

Vexed Scylla, halhinj.,' in the sea that parts 

("alahria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore; 

Nor uj^lier follow the nij^lil haj^', when, called 

In secret, ridin).^ thronj;li liw air she cr)iiies, 

Lured with the smell of infant hlood, to dance 

Willi l-aplaiid witches, while the lahoiirinj,' moon 

l'".clipses at iheir (harms. The other Shape - 

If shape it nii(;hl Ix called that shape had none 

l)istin).(uishahle in memher, joint, or limh; 

Or suhstance mif^hl he calle(| thai shadow seemed, 

l''or each seemed either hiack it stood as Ni^hl, 

iMerce as ten h'nries, lerrihie as Hell, 

And shook a dreadful dart: what seemed his iiead 

The likeness of a kindly crown liarl on. 

Satan was now at hand, and from his .cat 



128 JOHN MILTON BOOK il 

The monster moving onward came as fast 
With horrid strides ; Hell trembled as he strode. 
The undaunted Fiend what this might be admired — 
Admired, not feared (God and his Son except, 
Created thing naught valued he nor shunned), 
And with disdainful look thus first began : — 

" Whence and what art thou, execrable Shape, 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass, 
That be assured, without leave asked of thee. 
Retire ; or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, 
Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heaven." 

To whom the Goblin, full of wranth, replied: — 
"Art thou that Traitor-Angel, art thou he. 
Who first broke peace in Heaven and faith, till then 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of Heaven's sons, 
Conjured against the Highest — for which both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemned 
To waste eternal days in woe and pain? 
And reckon'st thou thyself with Spirits of Heaven, 
Hell-doomed, and breath'st defiance here and scorn. 
Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, 
Thy king and lord?/ Back to thy punishment, 
False fugitive; and 'to thy speed add wings. 
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart 
Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before." 

So spake the griesly Terror, and in shape, 
So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold 
More dreadful and deform. On the other side, 
Incensed with indignation, Satan stood 
Unterrified, and like a comet burned, 
That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge 
In the artick sky, and from his horrid hair 
Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head 
Levelled his deadly aim ; their fatal hands 
No second stroke intend ; and such a frown 
Each cast at the other as when two black clouds. 



BOOK II PARADISE LOST 129 

With heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on 
Over the Caspian, — then stand front to front 
Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow 
To join their dark encounter in mid-air. 
So frowned the mighty combatants that Hell 
Grew darker at their frown; so matched they stood; 
For never but once more was either like 
To meet so great a foe. And now great deeds 
Had been achieved, whereof all Hell had rung, 
Had not the snaky Sorceress, that sat 
Fast by Hell-gate and kept the fatal key. 
Risen, and with hideous outcry rushed between. 

" O father, what intends thy hanfl," she cried, 
"Against thy only son ? What fury, O son. 
Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart 
Against thy father's head? And know'st for whom? 
For Him who sits above, and laughs the while 
At thee, ordained his drudge to execute 
Whate'er his wrauth, which He calls justice, bids — 
His wrauth, which one day will destroy ye both ! " 

She spake, and at her words the hellish Pest 
Forbore : then these to her Satan returned : — 

" So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange 
Thou interposest, that my sudden hand, 
Prevented, spares to tell thee yet by deeds 
What it intends, till first I know of thee 
What thing thou art, thus double-formed, and why 
In this infernal vale first met, thou call'st 
Me father, and that fantasm call'st my son. 
I know thee not, nor ever saw till now 
Sight more detestable than him and thee." 

To whom thus the Portress of Hell-gate replied: — 
" Hast thou forgot me, then ; and do I seem 
Now in thine eye so foul ? — once deemed so fair 
In Heaven, when at the assembly, and in sight 
Of all the Seraphim with thee combined 
In bold conspiracy against Heaven's King, 
All on a sudden miserable pain 
Surprised thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum 
In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast 



IJO JOHN Mll.rON HOOK II 

IMiU'w loilli. till oil lln- Irll •itli- o|)iumi; wiilf. 
I ikrst tt» ilic*o ill shapo aiul loimliMi.iiui- ltiij;lit, 
riu'ii sliiniu)* lu'avfiilv fail, a >;o»K|«'ss armni, 
(hii ol tliv lioad I sprung. Aina/i'im-iit seixetl 
All till' host of lliMVtMi; l>ark llicv ni'oiltul afraid 
At first, aiul oallril \\u- Sm. .m.l i>m .1 Mt;n 
I'ortontoiis hold \\w , luil, laimliar ^lown. 
I ploasod, ami with allraitivo j;raii's won 
riu> most averse tlioo ihirllv. who. lull oft 
Thysrlf in iiic (hv perft'rl innijo viowim;, 
15eoaurst iMianuMiroil; ami siuh jov ihon ttM»k'st 
With int» in srrrot th.it my \v«>nil> n>m«Mv»>(I 
A ^rowinj; huriUMi, MtMiuvhilr w.u .iioso. 
And lields \v«>i«> loni;ht in llcaviMi; wluioin niii. lined 

( I'\m U ll.ll 1 Kuld i'I:-e :") lo .Mil Almi^htv I'Oi- 

( lear vu(oi\ ; to oni p.ul loss aiul rtuit 
rhron.i;h .ill the h'nipvre.in. hown they fell, 
Hriyeii he.idlonjj from the piteli o( lle.iven. down 
Into this heep ; and in the general f.ill 
1 also: at whieh time this powerful Key 
Into my haiuls was ^iyeii. with eh.iit;e to keep 
These jjate.s for ever shut, whieh none ean p.iss 
W'illu^nt my openinj^" Tensiye luii' I sat 
Alone. Init K<ni^ I s.il not. idl ni\ wonil*. 
ru'v;n.nit hy thee, and now e\ei"ssive i^iown, 
rr(ulii;ions nu>tii>n felt aiul rmdiil lhri>es. 
At I.ist this odious i»lls\M itli; whom thon seest, 
'rhiiie own hei^otten. hie.ikim; yiolent way. 
TiM'e tlnAMi,i;h my entrails, th.it. with fe.u and p.iin 
Oistorteil, all my nether shape thus .i;rew 
Transformed: Intt he my inhreil enemy 
Wrth issued, hrandishiiij; his fatal ilart. 
Made to ilestroy. 1 tied, and eried out l^cathl 
Hell treniMeil at the hiileous name, and sij;hoil 
V>(M\i all her eaves, and haek resomuled /'cmZ/i.' 
\ tleil ; hilt he pursued (thonj^h nuue, it seems, 
Intlameil yvith Inst than ra.i;eV and, swifter far. 
Me overtook, his mother, all vlism.iyeil. 
And. iu omhraees foreihie aiul f>>nl 
Kngemlerinj; with me. of that i.ipe hi-i;ot 



HOOK H I'Alt^KISK r,()MT 131 

'I Ik .1- yclliiif; iiioirJri i, lli.il willi i rHHClCM Cfy 
Sill khiihI nil-, .1;^ liioii haw'tvl iKiiiily 1 dim ci v< <l 
Ami JKiiiily lioni, willi norriiw iiiiinili 
To iiM' : Ini, wIk'Ii iIi'V li'>t, iiil" tli<' woiiilt 

'rii;il l)rc«l lliclii lliry KlMlll, .'ilnl lirtwl, .'iml JMi.iW 

My li(»w«'li>, llicir tr\mu\ , (Inn, IdHhtiiif^ l<.iili 

AlVf.ll, Willi < '<ll'-.<i'lll'i IcIlMl', VfA IHC Mllllllj, 

ril.'il rent 01 mil I nil, .lull noiii | lnnj 
I'cloic iiiiiir cyc'i in oppoJlMin 'iil'> 
(iriiii hc'illi, my non .iiid l<ic, wlio 'i< I . tin m 011, 
And iiif, liifi |»iinii(, would full lOon dfvoiii 
I'or w;iiil of ollifi |»ity, Iml iImI Ih* l<now-. 
Hit end willi iiiinc involved, ;iiii| l<iiow. fliil I 
Should prove a hiller iiioifjei, and lii*. I);m' , 
Whenever thai f-.liall !»<•: ho I'ale |.ioiioiin'<d 
Kill llioii, O lalliei, I loiewarii lliee, '.hnn 
llii deadly allow, neillier vainly ho|)i 
I o he inviilnerahle in tlio'-.e hii>.dil aiiir., 
I lion(.^li leiiipered heavenly; ioi Ihal iiioil;d dinl, 
Sav<' lie who |eij./n-. ahove, none < ,'in |efU;»|," 

She liniJi'd, and llie 'iihlle hiend hin lorr- 
.Soon l<,iiii((|, now iiiild'i, ami lliiri an.weied 

iiinoolii 
** l)far d;iii)',liler — »jiicc Ihon ( laiin'-.l nie Ini lli/ 

Hire, 
And my fair fion Iumc riliow'.! im-, ihe i|i ;ii |,|. dj/c 
Of dalliance had willi line in Heaven, and |oy'> 
I hen Mwecl, now 'lad lo ineiilion, (liroii).di (lire i Iiaii).;e 
I'elallen 114 nnforef>eeii, linllioii('lil ol I nov,', 
I < onie no enemy, hlll lo he( flee 
I'roni oiil lliifi rlaik and rli-iinal lion;>e. oi pain 
I'lolh him aiKJ (hee, and all (he lle.ivenly lio.l 
Of S|»iri(t) (ha(, in oiir jwA pre(en<r'- aimed, 
I'elj widi iiH from on hi^^h. I'rom (hem I yn 
'I'hifi iimondi errand t-.ole, ;ind one for all 

My--e|f expose, wi(ll lonely ti(«prt (o Ire.id 
'Ihe, nnfoniided l)eep, ;in<l (lii(»nj,di llir- void imni< le^M 
To "leareji, wi(h wanderin^; i\\u-^t, a plaee forefold 
SlioiiM he and, hy < om iirrinj.^ ''iK'"^. ''f' ""vv 
Oi-alrd vaht and loiind ,1 |)l;i«e of hli;vi 



13L' JOHN MII,|()N it«)OK II 

III llir piiMrliiMii's of I U'.ivi'ii ; ami llurrin pl.uH'd 
A liU'i' III' upslaft t-rcaturi's. (o stipply 
I'rrliaps our vacant room, llioui;li nion' irmovrd. 
Losl llcucn, sun iKiii'.rd willi |iolciil luultitiulc, 
JVlij^liI li.ip Id inovr luw bioils. I'.r lliis. or auj^lil 
'I'lian llns inon- srnri, now (K-si^nrd, I liasto 
To know; and Iliis oner loiowii. sliall soon iTlmMi 
And 111 in;; \r lo llir |il.ur wlicir llion and Mcatli 
Shall dwell al rasr, and np and down inK'UHMi 
VVini;' siU-iilly llu- Imxoin air, inilidnud 
Willi odonrs. TIich' vi" sliall In- Ird and lillod 
linnu-asnraMv ; all lliini^s shall In- \(>nr picy." 

IK' nascd ; lor liolh scrnu'd lii;ddv pirasod, and 
Drath 
(iriniu'd lioiiililr a idiasllv sniilr, lo hear 
ills laniinc 'dionld l>r Idlrd, and hU'sscd his maw 
Doslinrd lo llial i',ood hour. No loss fcjoiiH-d 
llis molluT had. and (luis hospakc hor Sire: — 

" Tjir ki-y of this infernal Til, by dno 
v\nd hy eommand i^i I liMven's all iiowerfnl Kin}j, 
I keep, hv Mini foi hidden lo niiloek 
'These adaniaiiline scales; ai;ainsl all foiee 
l\'atii n-adv slands to iiilerpose hi^; dart, 
l'"eailess to he o'ennatelu'd h\ livinL; lui'dit. 
Unl what owe I lo llis eommands ahove. 
Who hales me, and hath hither thrusl tne down 
Into this i^Iooin of rarlarns profonnd. 
'I'o sil in hatefnl olViee here eonlined, 
Inhahilanl of Heaven and he,ivenl\- horn — 
1 lere in pei pol nal ,n',on\' and pain. 
\\ ilh lenois and with elamoms eompassed round 
( >f mine own hiood. ihal on niv howels leed ? 

I'hon .III ni\' f.ilher, ihon mv author, ihon 

My heinj; j;av'st me; whom should I ohey 

lUil thee? whom folliwv? Thon will hrinj^ me stioii 

To Ihal now worUl of li.<;hl and hiiss, anioiii; 

The Ljiids who live al ease, where I shall roign 

Al lliv ri<;lit hand volniilnous, as hosoonis 

riiv daughter and Ihv darlini;. wilhonl end." 
Tints saviiii;. from her side the f.ital key, 



HOOK 11 PARA DISK LOST 133 

Sad instniiiu'iit of all our woe, she took; 

And, toward llic ^:dc rowliiij^ her bestial train, 

I'Orlliwilli the liiij^c i)orlcu!lis lli^;ll up-di^'w, 

Wliicli, but herself, not all the Sty^^Man Powers 

Could once have moved ; then in tlie keyhole turhs 

The intricate wards, and every holt and bar 

Of massy iron or solid rock with ease 

Unfastens. On a sudden open fly, 

With impetuous recoil and jarrinjj sound, 

Tile infernal doors, and on their hinj^-^es jjrate 

Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook 

Of I'>el)us. She o])ened; but to siuit 

Excelled her i)ower : the pates wide f)pen stood, 

That with extended winp^s a bannered host. 

Under spread ensigns marebinj,', mijjht pass throuph 

With horse antl chariots ranked in loose array ; 

So wide they stood, and like a furnace-mouth 

Cast forth redoundinj^ snK)ke and ruddy flame. 

I?efore their eyes in sudden view ajjpear 

The secrets of the hoary Deep — a dark 

lUiinitalde ocean, witliout lK)und, 

Without dimension: where lenji^tb, breadth, and hif,dith, 

And time, and ])lace, are lost; where eldest Ni{,dit 

And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold 

Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise 

Of endless wars, and by confusion stand. 

Eor Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierci-, 

.Strive here for maistrie, and tr> battle brinjj^ 

Tlieir embryon atoms: they arf)tmd the flaf^ 

Of each his faction, in their several clans, 

l.ij^dit-arnied or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow, 

.Swarm populous, unnumbered as the sands 

Of Barca or Cyrcnc's torrid soil. 

Levied to side with warrinpf winds, and poise 

Their lighter winps. To whom these most adhere 

Tie rules a moment: Chaos tun])irc sits. 

And by decision more imbroils the fray 

I5y which h(! reijrus: next him, hij^di arbiter. 

Chance jjoverns all. Into this wild Abyss, 

The womb of Nature, and ])erhai)S her grave, 

I JICIV 



134 JOHN MILTON nooK U 

Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire, 

But all these in their pregnant causes mixed 

Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, 

Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain 

His dark materials to create more worlds — 

Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend 

Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while, 

Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith 

He had to cross. Nor was his ear less pealed 

With noises loud and ruinous (to compare 

Great things with small) than when Bellona storms 

With all her battering engines, jjcnt to rase 

Some capital city; or less than if this frame 

Of heaven were falling, and these elements 

In mutiny had from her axle torn 

The steadfast Earth. At last his sail-broad vans 

He spreads for flight, and, in the surging smoke 

Uplifted, spurns the ground ; thence many a league. 

As in a cloudy chair, ascending rides 

Audacious; but, that seat soon failing, meets 

A vast vacuity. All unawares. 

Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb-down he drops 

Ten thousand fadom deep, and to this hour 

Down had been falling, had not, by ill chance. 

The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud, 

Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him 

As many miles aloft. That fury stayed — 

Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea, 

Nor good dry land — nigh foundered, on he fares, 

Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, 

Half flying; behoves him now both oar and sail. 

As when a gryfon through the wilderness 

With winged course, o'er hill or mooi-y dale. 

Pursues the Arimpasian, who by stealth 

Had from his wakeful custody purloined 

The guarded gold ; so eagerly the Fiend 

O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare. 

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, 

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies. 

At length, a universal hubbub wild 



liOUK II PARADISE LOST 135 

Of stunning sounds, and voices all confused, 

Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear 

With loudest vehemence. Thither he plies 

Undaunted, to meet there whatever Power 

Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss 

Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask 

Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies 

Bordering on light ; when straight behold the throne 

Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread 

Wide on the wasteful Deep ! With him enthroned 

Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things. 

The consort of his reign ; and by them stood 

Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name 

Of Demogorgon ; Rumour next, and Chance, 

And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroiled. 

And Discord with a thousand various mouths. 

To whom Satan, turning boldly, thus^: — 
"Ye Powers 
And Spirits of this nethermost Abyss, 
Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy 
With purpose to explore or to disturb 
The secrets of your realm ; but, by constraint 
Wandering this darksome desart, as my way 
Lies through your spacious empire up to light, 
Alone and without guide, half lost, I seek. 
What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds 
Confine with Heaven; or, if some other place. 
From your dominion won, the Ethereal King 
Possesses lately thither to arrive 
I travel this profound. Direct my course; 
Directed, no mean recompense it brings 
To your behoof, if I that region lost. 
All usurpation thence expelled, reduce 
To her original darkness and your sway 
(Which is my present journey), and once more 
Erect the standard there of ancient Night. 
Yours be the advantage all, mine the revenge !" 

Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old. 
With faltering speech and visage incomposed. 
Answered : — "I know thee, stranger, who thou art — 



136 JOHN MILTON book ii 

That tiii<;li(y loading Angel, who of late 

IMaile head against Heaven's King, thongh overthrown. 

I saw and heard ; for snoh a nnnierous host 

Med not in silence throngh the frighted Deep, 

With rnin npon ruin, rout on rout, 

Confusion worse eonft)nnded; and Heaven-gates 

Poured out by millions her victorious bands. 

Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here 

Keep resilience ; if all I can will serve 

That little which is left so to defend, 

Encroached on still through our intestine broils 

Weakening the sceptre of oUl Night: fust, Hell, 

Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath; 

Now lately Heaven and luirth, another world 

Hung o'er my realm, linked in a golden chain 

To this side Heaven from whence your legions fell 1 

If that. way be your walk, you have not far; 

So much the nearer danger. Go, and speed ; 

Havoc, and spoil, and rnin. are my gain." 

He ceased ; and Satan staid not to reply, 
]^ut, glad that now his sea should fuul a shore,' 
With fresh alacrity ami force reneweil 
Springs upward, like a pyramid of tire. 
Into the wild expanse, and through the shock 
Of fighting elements, on all sides round 
Environed, wins his way; harder beset 
And more endangered than when Argo passed 
Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks, 
Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned 
Charybdis. ami by the other Whirlpool steered. 
So he with ditViculty and labour hard 
!Moved on. With ditliculty ami labour he; 
Put. he once passed, soon after, when Man fell. 
Strange alteration ! Sin and Death amain. 
EoUowing his track (such was the will of Heaven) 
Paved after him a broad and beaten way 
Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling gulf 
Tamely endured a bridge of wontlrous length. 
From Hell continued, reaching the utmost Orb 
Of this frail World ; by which the Spirits perverse 



IK)()K IIF PAKADISE LOST 137 

With easy intercourse pass to and fro 
To tempt or punish mortals, except whom 
God and good Angels guard by special grace. 

I5ut now at last the sacred influence 
Of light appears, and from the walls of Heaven 
Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night 
A glimmering dawn. Here Nature first begins 
Her fardcst verge, and Chaos to retire. 
As from her utmost works, a broken foe. 
With tumult less and with less hostile din; 
That Satan with less toil, and now with ease, 
Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light, 
And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds 
Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn ; 
Or in the emptier waste, resembling air, 
Weighs his si)read wings, at leisure to behold 
Far off the empyreal Heaven, extended wide 
In circuit, undetermined square or round, 
With opal towers and battlements adorned 
Of living sapphire, once his native seat, 
And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain, 
This pendent World, in bigness as a star 
Of smallest magnitude cl<jse by the moon. 
Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge, 
Accurst, and in a cursed hour, he hies. 



THE THIRD BOOK 

TiiK Argument. — God, sitting on his throne, sees Satan flying 
towards this World, then newly created ; shews him to the .Son, who 
sat at his right hand ; foretcjls the success of Satan in perverting 
mankind ; clears his own Justice and Wisdom from all imijutation, 
having created Man free, and ahle enough to have withstood his 
Tcmi)ter ; yet declares his purpose of grace towards him, in regard 
he fell not of his own malice, as did .Satan, hut by him seduced. 
The Son of (jod renders praises to his l'"ather for the manifestation 
of his gracious purpose towards Man : hut God again declares that 
riracc cannot he extended towards Man without the satisfaction of 
Divine Justice; Man hath offended the majesty of God by aspiring 
to Godhead, and therefore, with all his progeny, devoted to death, 
must die, unless some one can be found sufficient to answer for bis 



13K 



.KUIN MII.ION 



HOOK III 



nlU'lur, .iliil llllihlr.o lll,'< |i|ini!iliMi('lll. riu' Siili III (iod licilv nlU'l.'i 

liim.'ii'll it laiiMuiii liM Miin: (lie I'lillitT lU'i'fplM liiiii, nnliiiiis liis 
iiu'iii imliiin, |ii(iiuiiiiii'tH hit* cxatlaliuM aliovf all NaiiUM in lltMVfii 
ami Mai til ; iiimmaiuis all llu- AiiKclft li> ailoro liiin. Tln'v oliry, and, 
liyniMiuK to tlifii liaips in liill (|uiii-. icli-lniilf tin- I'.iIIkt and tlio 
Sun. Mciinwhilf Satan ali^lits ii|ion tlif l>ai<' loiivfx nl tlii.s Wmld's 
niilii iiu'-.l (11 li; when- wandciiiiK lie tiist tinds a piai'f sini'f railed 
tin- I iiiilm III Wiiiilv ; wliat ptTsons and lliinns lly np lliitlitT: tluMuui 
I'linit'M ti> llic K'll'' "I lli-avcn, tlfMcrilu'd a.scfndinK liy staiiM, and the 
wattTH aliovf tlic tiimanu'nt that lluw aluuit it. His passam* tlu-nrc 
til llif dill ol tlif Snn ; lit* tinds tlific Uritd, llu- rcKfiit nl llial orli, 
lull t'liMt rlum^fs liiiiisfll into the .sliapr nl a nifanci Ant-'.il, and, 
pictcniliiiK a /.faldiiM dfsiit* In lirliidd tin- new ('rraliun, .iiul Man 
wlinni (iiiil liad plarcd inMc, itiiinircs ol liini llic pl.ui- nl ln:t li,iliil,i 
lion, and is dii ntfil : Alij-Jils tirst on Monnt Nipiiatcs. 



IIaii., Iioly l.iK'it. olTspiiti).;; ol' IUmvi-h liisl Ixuii! 
()r of (Ik- I'ltiTiijil roctcnial luMm 
Miiy I fxpii'ss {\hc iinltliimcd ? siiui' ( iod is Vii^Ui, 
Ami tu'vcr luit ii\ iina|>iifo;u-lu\l li^ht 
Mwi'll lioiu cliiiiih ilwill tluii in llii'c, 
Uiif^ht i-llliu'iui' ol |iii;;!il cs'.i-iu r iiirnMli" ! 
Or lu'ar'st Ihoti lallui |uiir I'liincil Stu'am, 
Whose foniilaiii w lio NJiall l«il :' lUlurr llu- .Sun, 
JU'fort' till' 1 ic.w'tii.'.. tliiui Will, .111(1 ,il till- voii'c 
(U (1(1(1, as with a in. iiillc. didst invi'St 
riic lisinj^' World of waters dark and deep, 
\\ (Ml from the voiil and formless liitinile! 
line 1 revisit now with holder w iiij;, 
I'lseaped (he Stygian i'ool, ihoiijdi lone, del. lined 
In that ohseiire S(\joiiiii, wliile in my lli^lit, 
riiionj^h litter and through middle harkness homo, 
With other notes tli.iii to the Orplu-an lyre 
1 siin^ td" Chaos .md eli-inal Ni^hl, 
Tanf^ht hy the Heavenly Muse to ventiin- down 
The dark desetMil, and up to re-aseend, 
'riiouf^h hard and rare. Thee I revisit safe, 
And feel (hy sovran vital lamp; hnt Ihon 
Kevisit'st not these eyes, that lowl in v.iin 
'Vo find thy piereinj; ray, ami liiid no d.iwn; 
So thiek a drop serene hath tineiuhed their orhs, 
( >r dim sulYnsion veiled. \'et not the more 
I e.i:.e 1 lo w. Older wheie tlie Muses li.innt 



iir I'AIIADISK LOST 139 

( |( ,ir spriiif^ or sliady t^r<»v<', or Miimy liill, 

Smit with llic love of sacred soiij;; bill i liicf 

'I'licc, Sioii, and llic llowcry l)ro(j|<s bciu-alli, 

'llial wash thy liallowcd fed, and warhhii); (low, 

Nightly I visit: nor scjinotinifs forget 

'J'hosc otlier two c(jnallc-d with me in fate, 

(So were J cf)iiallcd with lliein in renown!) 

r.iiiHl 'Ihaniyris and liliiid MaMdiides, 

And i iresias aii<l I'liiiieiis, proj)h(t:> old: 

'I'hen feerj on thoughts that vohnilary move 

llariiioiiioiis numbers; as the wakeful bird 

Sings d;irl<liiig, and, in slia<lieHt eoveil hid, 

'I'lliies lici niKliiiii.d iimIc. 'I'hus with the year 

Seasons reliii n ; but not lo me returns 

Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn. 

Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 

Or Hocks, or lierds, or human face divine; 

Hilt cloud instead aiul ever during dark 

Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men 

(lit off, and, for the book of Kiiowb djM- fair, 

Presented with a univeisal blank 

Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, 

And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. 

So mix li I lie rather tliou, Celestial Light, 

Shine inward, an<l the mind through all her powers 

Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mist from thence 

rurg<- and dispiTse, that I may see and tell 

Of (Iiiiigs invisible lo mortal sight. 

Now had Iho Almighty bather from alM)ve, 
b'roni the pure Mmpyrean where H«' sits 
High throned above all highlli, bent dow!i his eye, 
His own works and their works at once to view: 
About him all the Sanctities of Heaven 
Sto«»d thick an stars, and from his sight received 
Beatitude; past utterance; on his right 
'J'he radiant image of hii. g'ory »af. 
His only Son. On JCarfh he first behrld 
Our two first parents, yet the oidy two 
Of mankiixl, in the Happy fiarden placed. 
Reaping inimortal fruits of Joy and love, 



140 JOHN MILTON BOOK ill 

Uninterrupted joy, unrivalled love, 

In blissful solitude. He then surveyed 

Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there 

Coasting the v\^all of Heaven on this side Night, 

In the dun air sublime, and ready now 

To stoop, with wearied wings and willing feet, 

On the bare outside of this World, that seemed 

Firm land imbosomed without firmament, 

Uncertain which, in ocean or in air. 

Him God beholding from his prospect high, 

Wherein past, present, future, he beholds. 

Thus to His only Son foreseeing spake : — 

" Only-begotten Son, seest thou what rage 
Transports our Adversary ? whom no bounds 
Prescribed, no bars of Hell, nor all the chains 
Heaped on him there, nor yet the main Abyss 
Wide interrupt, can hold : so bent he seems 
On desperate revenge, that shall redound 
Upon his own rebellious head. And now, 
Through all restraint broke loose, he wings his way 
Not far ofif Heaven, in the precincts of light, 
Directly towards the new-created World, 
And Man there placed, with purpose to assay 
If him by force he can destroy, or, worse, 
By some false guile pervert : ^nd shall pervert ; 
For Man will hearken to his glozing lies, 
And easily transgress the sole command, 
Sole pledge of his obedience: so will fall 
He and his faithless progeny. Whose fault? 
Whose but his own ? Ingrate, he had of me 
All he could have; I made him just and right. 
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. 
Such I created all the Ethereal Powers 
And Spirits, both them who stood and them who failed; 
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. 
Not free, what proof could they have given sincere 
Of true allegiance, constant faith, or love, 
Where only what they needs must do appeared. 
Not what they would ? What praise could they receive, 
What pleasure I, from such obedience paid, 



UOOK III PARADISE REGAINED 141 

When Will and Reason (Reason also is Choice), 

Useless and vain, of freedom both despoiled, 

Made passive both, had served Necessity, 

Not Me ? They, therefore, as to right belonged 

So were created, nor can justly accuse 

Their Maker, or their making, or their fate. 

As if Predestination overruled 

Their will, disposed by absolute decree 

Or high foreknowledge. They themselves decreed 

Their own revolt, not I. If I foreknew, 

Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault, 

Which had no less proved certain unforeknown. 

So without least impulse or shadow of fate. 

Or aught by me immutably foreseen, 

They trespass, authors to themselves in all. 

Both what they judge and what they choose; for so 

I formed them free, and free they must remain 

Till they enthrall themselves : I else must change 

Their nature, and revoke the high decree 

Unchangeable, eternal, which ordained 

Their freedom ; they themselves ordained their fall. 

The first sort by their own suggestion fell. 

Self-tempted, self-depraved ; Man falls, deceived 

By the other first: Man, therefore, shall find grace; 

The other, none. In mercy and justice both. 

Through Heaven and Earth, so shall my glory excel ; 

But mercy, first and last, shall brightest shine." 

Thus while God spake ambrosial fragrance filled 
All Heaven, and in the blessed Spirits elect 
Sense of new joy ineffable diffused. 
Beyond compare the Son of God was seen 
Most glorious; in him all his Father shon 
Substantially expressed ; and in his face 
Divine compassion visibly appeared, 
Love without end, and without measure grace; 
Which uttering, thus He to his Father spake: — 

"O Father, gracious was that word which closed 
Thy sovran sentence, that Man should find grace; 
For which both Heaven and Earth shall high extol 
Thy praises, with the innumerable sound 



142 JOHN MILTON BOOK III 

Of hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throne 
Encompassed shall resound thee ever blest. 
For, should Man finally be lost — should Man, 
Thy creature late so loved, thy youngest son, 
Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though joined 
With his own folly — ! That be from thee far, 
That far be from thee, Father, who art judge 
Of all things made, and judgest only right ! 
Or shall the Adversary thus obtain 
His end, and frustrate thine? Shall he fulfil 
His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught 
Or proud return, though to his heavier doom 
Yet with revenge accomplished, and to Hell 
Draw after him the whole race of mankind. 
By him corrupted? Or wilt thou thyself 
Abolish thy creation, and unmake, 
For him, what for thy glory thou hast made? — 
So should thy goodness and thy greatness both 
Be questioned and blasphemed without defense." 

To whom the great Creator thus replied : — 
"O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight. 
Son of my bosom. Son who art alone 
My word, my wisdom, and effectual might, 
All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all 
As my eternal purpose hath decreed. 
Man shall not quite be lost, but saved who will ; 
Yet not of will in him, but grace in me 
Freely voutsafed. Ohce more I will renew 
His lapsed powers, though forfeit, and enthralled 
By sin to foul exorbitant desires : 
Upheld by me, yet once more he shall stand 
On even ground against his mortal foe — 
By me upheld, that he may know how frail 
His fallen condition is, and to me owe 
All his deliverance, and to none but me. 
Some I have chosen of peculiar grace, 
Elect above the rest ; so is my will : 
The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warned 
Their sinful state, and to appease betimes 
The incensed Deity; while offered grace 



Ill PARADISE LOST 143 

Invites; for I will iliar tlicir senses dark 
Wli.'it may suflicc, and soften sl<tny hearts 
'I'o pray, repent, and brinj,' obedience due. 
1"o prayer, repentance, and oljedience due, 
Tliough but endeavoured with sincere intent, 
Mine car shall not be slow, mine eye not shut. 
And I will place within them as a jjuidc 
My umpire Conscience; whom if tiiey will hear, 
Li}^ht after lij,dit well used they shall attain, 
And to the end persisting safe arrive. 
This my long sufferance, and my day of grace, 
'J'hey who neglect and scorn shall never taste ; 
lint hard be hardened, blind be blinded more, 
That they may stumble on, and deeper fall ; 

And none but such from mercy 1 exclude. 

lUit yet all is not done. Man disobeying, 

Disloyal, breaks his fealty, and sins 

Against the high supremacy of Heaven, 

Affecting Godhead, and, so losing all. 

To expiate his treason hath naught left, 

But, to destruction sacred and devote, 

He with his whole posterity must die; — 

Die he or Justice must ; unless for him 

Some other, able, and as willing, pay 

The rigid satisfaction, death for death. 

Say, Heavenly Powers, where shall we find such love? 

Which of ye will be mortal, to redeem 

Man's mortal crime, and just, the unjust to save? 

Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear?" 

He asked, but all the Heavenly Ouire stood mule, 
And silence was in Heaven: on Man's behalf 
I'atron or intercessor none appeared — 
Much less that durst upon his own head draw 
The deadly forfcitin-e, and ransom set. 
And now without redemi)tion all mankind 
Must have l)een lost, adjudged to Death and Hell 
]',y doom severe, had not the Son of (]od, 
In whom the fulness dwells of love divine, 
His dearest mediation thus renewed: — 

" Father, thy word is passed, Man shall find grace ; 



144 JOHN IMII/rON iiooK in 

Ami shall (ir;u\' iiol liiiil iiuaus, llial IhkIs her way, 

The spoedii'st of ihy wiii^vil niossotij^crs, 

To visit all Ihy rroaliiri's, ami to all 

C'oims tminrx I'liloil, imimpKued, nnsoiij^jht ? 

llappy lor Man, so coming! I U- Ikt aid 

Can never seek, once deail in sins anil lost— 

Atonement lor hinisell', or olTi-rin^' meet, 

Imlehted anil tnidone. lialli none to hriiij^. 

Mehold nir. then; me tor him. life for life. 

1 olTer; on me let thine anj;er fall; 

Aeeonnt me Man: I (or his sake will le.'ive 

Thy hosoni, and this ylory next to thee 

l"'rcely jjiit oil", and for him lastly die 

Well pleased; on me let Death wre.ik all his ra^c. 

Undei his i;loomy power I shall not loni; 

I le \ ampiisheil. Thon h.'ist );iven me to possess 

Life in myself for ever; hy ihee 1 liveil; 

riumi;h now to heath I yield, and am his ihie, 
All that of me ean die. yet, that ileht paid. 

riiou will not leave me in llie loatlisoine ,i;rave 

Mis prey, nor sniler my nnspotled sonl 

I'or ever with eorrnption there to dwell; 

I'nl I shall rise vietorious, and snhdne 

Mv vaiupiisher, spoiled of his vamited spoil. 

Heath his tleath's wound sli.dl then reeeive, and stoop 

lnj;lorions, of his mortal stini; disarmed; 

I tlirons^h the ami)le air in trinmiih hii^h 

.*~;hall lead llell e.aptive m;ui};re Hell, and show 

The poweis of Darkness homid. Thon, at the si^ht 
Pleased, out of i leaven shall look down and smile. 
While, hy thee raised, I rnin .ill my foes — 
Pe.ilh last, and with his earease {^hit the i^rave ; 

riien, with the mnltilnde of my redeemed. 
Shall enter Heaven, lonj;" ahsent, and retnrn, 
l''ather, to see thy faee, wherein no elond 
Of an,i;er shall remain, hnt peaee assnred 

\nd reeoneilement : wranth shall he no more 

riieneeforth, hnt in tliv presetiee joy entire." 

I lis words lieie i iuK\l ; hnt his moek aspect' 
Silent \ et spake, .nut hicithed iinniort.d love 



HOOK Ml TAIIAOISK I.OST 145 

'I'o iriorlal man, al)r)V(' wliicli only slimi 

l'"ilial ol)e(liciic(' : as a sacrifnc; 

(Had to l)c offered, lie alleiids the will 

Of his f,M-{'at l''a(h<T. Admiral ion seized 

All Heaven, what this niif;lil mean, and whither liiid, 

Wonderiiif^; hut soon the Almighty thus replied: — 

"() thou in Heaven and f''arlli the only jx-aoe 
h'onnd out for mankind under wraulh, O tlion 
My sole complacenec ! well thou knrtw'st how dear 
To me are all my works; nor Man the least, 
Thouj^di last created, that for him I spare 
Thee from my lK)som and rij^dit hand, to save, 
I'.y losing,' thee a while, the whole race lost I 
Tlion, therefore, whom Ihon only canst redeem, 
Their nature .also to thy nature join; 
And he thyself Man anion^f men on Is.'irlh, 
Madr Mesh, when lime slirdi he, of virj^in seed, 
I'.y wondrous hirlli; he thou in Adam's room 
Tlie head of all mankind, thonj^di Ad.im's son. 
As in hiin perish all men, so in th(;e, 
As from a 8Ccon<l root, shall he restored 
As many as arc reslorcfl ; without thee, none. 
His crime makes j^nilly all his sons; thy merit, 
Impnied, sh.dl .absolve lliem who renoinice 
Their own liolh rij^hlion:, .an*! nnrij^hleous deeds, 
And live in thee transpl;mted, ;ind from thee 
Receive new life. S'j Man, as is most just, 
Shall satisfy for Man, he jndj^ed ami flic, 
And dyinjif rise, and, risinj^', with him raise 
His hrethren, ransomed with his own dear life. 
So Heavenly love sh.ill outdo Hellish h;ite, 
fliviiif^ to fleath, and dyiiijj to redeem, 
So dearly to redf-em to wh.at Hellish li.atc 
So easily destr^jyed, and still destroys 
[n those who, when they may, accept not fjracc. 
Nor shalt thou, hy descendinji^ to assume 
Man's nature, lessen or dej^rade thine own. 
I'.ecause thou hast, thou^di throned in highest hliss 
Ivpial to (iod, and erpi.ally eiijoyinj^ 
(lod like fruition, <|nilte(l ;dl to save 



146 JOHN MILTON book hi 

.\ wimKI t'loiii uttor lass, ami hast l^ooti fouiul 
\\y merit more than birthrii;ht Son of (."uhI, — 
l'\)Uiul worthiest to bo so by boitiii i^ooil, 
l'\ir more than i^roat or hijih ; bcoauso iti thee 
l.ovo hath abomulod more than glory alnmiuls ; 
TlK-roforo thy humiliation shall exalt 
With thoc thy manhoixl also to this Throno: 
Hero shalt thou sit incarnato. horo shalt roiyii 
r.oth (.khI and Man, Son both of (.khI ami Man, 
Anointed imivorsal Kinij. All power 
1 ijive thee ; reij;n for over, and assume 
Thy merits; under thee, as Head Supremo. 
rhri>ues. rrineedon\s. Powers, nomiiiiims. T roiluee: 
All knees to thee shall bow of them that hide 
In Heaven, or I'arth, or. muler Ivarth. in Hell. 
When thou, attended gloriously from Heaven, 
Shalt in the sky appear, and from theo send 
The siunnioning Arehangels to proelaim 
Thy dreatl tribunal, forthwith from all winds 
The living, and forthwith the cited dead 
Of all past ages, to the general doom 
Shall hasten; such a peal shall rouse their sloop. 
Then, all thy Saints assembled, thou shalt judge 
l>ad men and Angels ; they arraigned shall sink 
luMieath thy setitenee ; Hell, her tumibers full. 
Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Meanwhile 
The World shall burn, and from her ashes spring 
New Heaven ami Karth. wherein the just shall dwell. 
And. after all their tribulations long. 
See gi^lden days, fruitful of golden deeds. 
With Joy ai\d l.ove triumph'itig. and fair Truth. 
Then thon thy regal sceptre shalt lay by: 
For regal sceptre then no more shall need; 
(kkI shall be All in All. But all ye Cuxls. 
.■\dore Him who. to compass all this, dies; 
Adore the Son. and honour him as me." 

No sooner had the Almighty ceased but — all 
The multitude of Angels, with a shout 
Loud as from lunubors without number, sweet 
As from blest voices, uttering joy — Heaven rung 



Ill FA RA DISK LOST 147 

Willi jubilee, and loud hosannas filled 

The eternal regions. Lowly reverent 

Towards either throne they how, and to the f^roiind 

With solemn adoration down they east 

'I'heir erowns, inwove with aniarant and gold, — 

liiiiiiorlal aniarant, a llower which oiiec 

In I'aradise, fast hy the Tree of Life, 

r.ej^an iu hlooni, hut, soon for Man's offence 

To Heaven removed where first it j^rew, tliere j^rows 

And flowers aloft, shading the h'ouiit of Life, 

And where the River of ]{liss througli midst of I leaven 

Rowls o'er Elysian flowers her amher stream! 

Willi these, that never fade, the Spirits elect 

I'.iiid their resplendent locks, inwreathed with heams. 

Now in lo(jse garlands thick thrown off, the hriglit 

]\'ivenK'nt, that like a sea of jasj)er slion, 

lmpur])led with celestial roses smiled. 

Then, crowned again, their golden harps they t(jok — 

Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side 

Like (|uivcrs hung; and with pra'amhle sweet 

Of charming symphony they introduce 

Their sacred SfJiig, and waken ra])(ures high: 

No voice exempt, no voice but well could join 

Melodif)us part; such concord is in Heaven. 

Thee, h'ather, first they sung, ( )mnii)olent. 
Immutable, Immortal. Iiifmile, 
internal King; thee, Author of all being, 
hoiiulain of light, thyself invisible 
Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sitt'st 
Throned inaccessible, but when thou shad'st 
'i'lie full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud 
Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine 
Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear, 
Yet dazzle Heaven, that brightest Sera])hini 
Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes. 
Thee next they sang, of all creatif)n first, 
liegotten Son, Divine Simililn(I<\ 
In whose conspicuous cotmleiiaiice, without cloud 
Made visible, the Almighy b'ather shines, 
Whom else no creaure can behold : on thee 



148 JOHN MILTON book hi 

Impressed the effulgence of his glory abides; 

Transfused on thee his ample Spirit rests. 

lie Heaven of Heavens, and all the Powers therein, 

By thee created ; and by thee threw down 

The aspiring Dominations. Thou that day 

Thy leather's dreadful thmider didst not spare, 

Nor stop thy flaming chariot-wheels, that shook 

Heaven's everlasting frame, while o'er the necks 

Thou drov'st of warring Angels disarrayed. 

Back from pursuit, thy Powers with loud acclaim 

Thee only extolled, Son of thy Father's might, 

To execute fierce vengeance on his foes. 

Not so on Man: him, through their malice fallen, 

Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doom 

So strictly, hut nnich more to pity encline. 

No sooner did thy dear and only Son 

Perceive thee purposed not to doom frail Man 

So strictly, but much more to pity enclined, 

He, to appease thy wrauth. and end the strife 

Of mercy and justice in thy face discerned. 

Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat 

Second tt) thee, offered himself to die 

For Man's offence. O unexampled love ! 

Love nowhere to be found less than Divine ! 

Hail. Son of God, Saviour of men ! Thy name 

Shall be the copious matter of my song 

Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise 

Forget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin ! 

Thus they in Heaven, above the Starry Sphere, 
Their happy hours in joy and hynming spent. 
Meanwhile, upon the firm opacous globe 
Of this round World, whose first convex diviiles 
The luminous inferior Orbs, enclosed 
• From Chaos and the inroad of Darkness old, 

Satan alighted walks. A globe far off 
It seemed ; now seems a boundless continent, 
Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of Night 
Starless exposed, and ever-threatening storms 
Of Chaos blustering round, inclement sky. 
Save on that side which from the wall of Heaven, 



BOOK III PARADISE LOST 149 

Though distant far, sonic small reflection gains 

Of plimtiioriiig air less vexed with tempest loud. 

1 Fere walked the Fiend at large in spacious field. 

As when a vultur, on Imaus bred, 

Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar hounds, 

Dislodging from a region scarce of prey, 

To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kids 

On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs 

Of Ganges or Ilydaspes, Indian streams, 

lUit in his way lights on the barren plains 

Of Sericana, where Chiiieses drive 

With sails and wind their cany waggons light; 

So, on this windy sea of land, the hiend 

Walked up and down alone, bent on his prey : 

Alone, for other creature in this place, 

Living or lifeless, to be found was none: — 

None yet ; but store hereafter from the Earth 

Uj) hither like aerial vapours flew 

Of all things transitory and vain, when sin 

With vanity had filled the works of men — 

Holh all things vain, and all who in vain things 

lUiilt their fond ho])es of glory or lasting fame, 

Or happiness in this or the other life. 

All who have their reward on earth, the fruits 

Of painful superstition and blind zeal, 

Naught seeking but the ])raise of men, here fmd 

I'^il retribution, empty as their deeds; 

All the unaccomplished works of Nature's hand. 

Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mixed, 

Dissolved on Earth, fleet hither, and in vain. 

Till final dissolution, wander here — 

Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some have dreamed : 

Those argent fields more likely habitants. 

Translated Saints, or middb' Spirits hold, 

I'elwixt the angelical and human kind. 

Hither, of ill-joined sons and daughters born, 

I'^irst from the ancient world those (iiants came. 

With many a vain exploit, though then renowned: 

The builders next of Babel on the plain 

Of Sennaar, and still with vain design 
J jr; IV 



150 JOHN MILTON uiH^ki i 

New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build : 
Others came single ; he who, to be deemed 
A gixl. leaped fondly into .l^tna tlames, 
Knipedooles ; and he who. to enjoy 
Plato's Elysium, leaped into the sea. 
Cloombrotus; and many more, too longf. 
Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars. 
White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery. 
Here pilg:rims roam, that strayed so far to seek 
In Golgotha him dead who lives in Heaven; 
And they who. to be sure of Paradise, 
Dying put on the weeds of Dominic. 
Or in b'ranciscan think to pass disguise*,!. 
They pass the planets seven, and pass the fixed. 
And that crystal'lin sphere whose balance weighs 
The trepidation talke(.l. and that first moved: 
And now Saint Peter at Heaven's wicket seems 
To wait them with his keys, and now at foot 
Of Heaven's ascent they lift their feet. when, lo! 
A violent cross wind from either coast 
Plows them transverse, ten thousand leagues awry. 
Into the devious air. Then might ye see 
Cowls, hotxls. and habits, with their wearers, tost 
And tlutterevl into rag-s ; then reliques. beads. 
Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls. 
The sport of winds : all these. upwhirU\l aloft, 
, Fly o'er the backside of the World far otT 
\Into a Limbo large and broad, since calknl 
The Paradise of Fools: to few unknown 
Lotig after, now impeopled and untrixl. 

All this dark globe the Fiend found as he passed; 
And long he wandered, till at last a gleam 
Of dawning light turned thitherward in haste 
His travelled steps. Far distant he descries. 
Ascending by degrees magnificent 
L^p to the wall of Heaven, a structure high; 
.-\t top whereof, but far more rich, appeared 
The work as of a kingly palace-gate. 
With frontispice of diamond and gold 
Imbellished ; thick with sparkling orient gems 



HOOK 111 PARADISE LOSr ISl 

The portal shon. inimitable on Earth 

\\\ model, or by shading pencil drawn. 

The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw 

Angels ascending and descending, bands 

Of guardians bright, when he from Esau tied 

To Padan-Aram, in the held of Luz 

Dreaming by night under the open sky, 

And waking cried. This is the }^atc of Hcovcn. 

ICach stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood 

There always, but drawn up to Heaven sometimes 

\'iewless; and underneath a bright sea tlowed 

Of jasper, or of liipiid pearl, whereon 

Who after came from Earth sailing arrived 

Wafted by Angels, or tlew o'er the lake 

Rapt in a chariot drawn by tiery steeds. 

The stairs were then let down, whether to ilare 

The Fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate 

His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss: 

Direct against which opened from beneath. 

Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise, 

A passage down to the Earth — a passage wide ; 

Wider by far than that of after-times 

Over Mount Sion, and. though that were large. 

Over the Promised Land to God so dear. 

By which, to visit oft those happy tribes. 

On high behests his Angels to and fro 

Passed frequent, and his eye with choice regard 

Erom Paneas. the fount of Jordan's tlocxl, 

To Beersaba. where the Holy Land 

Borders on .Egypt and the Arabian shore. 

So wide the opening seemed, where bounds were set 

To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave. 

Satan from hence, now on the lower stair. 

That scaled by steps of gold to Heaven-gate, 

Looks down with wonder at the sudden view 

Of all this World at once. As when a scout. 

Through dark and desart ways with peril gone 

All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn 

Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill. 

Which to his eye discovers unaware 



152 JOHN MILTON BOOK III 

The goodly prospect of some foreign land 

First seen, or some renowned metropolis 

With glistering spires and pinnacles adorned. 

Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams; 

Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen, 

The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized, 

At sight of all this World beheld so fair. 

Round he surveys (and well might, where he stood 

So high above the circling canopy 

Of Night's extended shade) from eastern point 

Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears 

Andromeda far off Atlantic seas 

Beyond the horizon ; then from pole to pole 

He views in breadth, — and, without longer pause, 

Down right into the World's first region throws 

His flight precipitant, and winds with ease 

Through the pure marble air his oblique way 

Amongst innumerable stars, that shon 

Stars distant, but nigh-hand seemed other worlds. 

Or other worlds they seemed, or happy isles. 

Like those Hesperian Gardens famed of old. 

Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales; 

Thrice happy isles ! But who dwelt happy there 

He staid not to inquire : above them all 

The golden Sun, in splendour likest Heaven, 

Allured his eye. Thither his course he bends. 

Through the calm firmament (but up or down. 

By centre or eccentric, hard to tell. 

Or longitude) where the great luminary. 

Aloof the vulgar constellations thick. 

That from the lordly eye keep distance due, 

Dispenses light from far. They, as they move 

Their starry dance in numbers that compute 

Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering 

lamp 
Turn swift their various motions, or are turned 
By his magnetic beam, that gently warms 
The Universe, and to each inward part 
With gentle penetration, though unseen. 
Shoots invisible virtue even to the Deep ; 



BOOK III PARADISE LOST 153 

So wondrously was set his station bright. 
There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps 
Astronomer in the Sun's lucent orb 
Through his glazed optic tube yet never saw. 
The place he found beyond expression bright, 
Compared with aught on Earth, metal or stone — 
Not all parts like, but all alike informed 
With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire. 
If metal, part seemed gold, part silver clear; 
If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite. 
Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shon 
In Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besides ; 
Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen — 
That stone, or like to that, which here below 
Philosophers in vain so long have sought ; 
In vain, though by their powerful art they bind 
Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound 
In various shapes old Proteus from the sea. 
Drained through a limbec to his native form. 
What wonder then if fields and regions here 
Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run 
Potable gold, when, with one virtuous touch. 
The arch-chimic Sun, so far from us remote, 
Produces, with terrestrial humour mixed, 
Here in the dark so many precious things 
Of colour glorious and effect so rare? 
Here matter new to gaze the Devil met . 
Undazzled. Far and wide his eye commands; 
For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade. 
But all sunshine, as when his beams at noon 
Culminate from the equator, as they now 
Shot upward still direct, whence no way round 
Shadow from body opaque can fall ; and the air, 
Nowhere so clear, sharpened his visual ray 
To objects distant far, whereby he soon 
Saw within ken a glorious Angel stand, 
The same whom John saw also in the Sun. 
His back was turned, but not his brightness hid; 
Of beaming sunny rays a golden tiar 
Circled his head, nor less his locks behind 



154 JOHN MILTON book hi 

Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings 

Lay waving round : on some great charge imployed 

He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep. 

Glad was the Spirit impure, as now in hope 

To find who might direct his wandering flight 

To Paradise, the happy seat of Man, 

His journey's end, and our beginning woe. 

But first he casts to change his proper shape. 

Which else might work him danger or delay : 

And now a stripling Cherub he appears, 

Not of the prime, yet such as in his face 

Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb 

Suitable grace diffused ; so well he feigned. 

Under a coronet his flowing hair 

In curls on either cheek played ; wings he wore 

Of many a coloured plume sprinkled with gold; 

His habit fit for speed succinct ; and held 

Before his decent steps a silver wand. 

He drew not nigh unheard ; the Angel bright, 

Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turned. 

Admonished by his ear, and straight was known 

The Archangel Uriel — one of the seven 

Who in God's presence, nearest to his throne, 

Stand ready at command, and are his eyes 

That run through all the Heavens, or down to the 

Earth 
Bear his swift errands over moist and dry. 
O'er sea and land. Him Satan thus accosts : — 

" Uriel ! for thou of those seven Spirits that stand 
In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright. 
The first art wont his great authentic will 
Interpreter through highest Heaven to bring, 
Where all his Sons thy embassy attend. 
And here art likeliest by supreme decree 
Like honour to obtain, and as his eye 
To visit oft this new Creation round — 
Unspeakable desire to see and know 
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man, 
His chief delight and favour, him for whom 
All these his works so wondrous he ordained, 



BOOK III PARADISE LOST 155 

Hath brought me from the quires of Cherubim 

Alone thus wandering. Brightest Seraph, tell 

In which of all these shining orbs hath Man 

His fixed seat — or fixed seat hath none, 

But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell — 

That I may find him, and with secret gaze 

Or open admiration him behold 

On whom the great Creator hath bestowed 

Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces poured ; 

That both in him and all things, as is meet. 

The Universal Maker we may praise ; 

Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes 

To deepest Hell, and, to repair that loss. 

Created this new happy race of Men 

To serve him better. Wise are all his ways ! " 

So spake the false dissembler unperceived; 
For neither man nor angel can discern 
H3^pocrisy — the only evil that walks 
Invisible, except to God alone, 
By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth; 
And oft, though Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleeps 
At Wisdom's gate, and to Simplicity 
Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no ill 
Where no ill seems : which now for once beguiled 
Uriel, though Regent of the Sun, and held 
The sharpest-sighted Spirit of all in Heaven; 
Who to the fraudulent impostor foul. 
In his uprightness, answer thus returned : — 

" Fair Angel, thy desire, which tends to know 
The works of God, thereby to glorify 
The great Work-maister, leads to no excess 
That reaches blame, but rather merits praise 
The more it seems excess, that led thee hither 
From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, 
To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps, 
Contented with report, hear only in Heaven: 
For wonderful indeed are all his works. 
Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all 
Had in remembrance always with delight ! 
But what created mind can comprehend 



156 JOHN MILTON book lir 

Their number, or the wisdom infinite 
That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep? 
I saw when, at his word, the formless mass. 
This World's material mould, came to a heap : 
Confusion heard his voice, and wild Uproar 
Stood ruled, stood vast Infinitude confined; 
Till, at his second bidding, Darkness fled. 
Light shon, and order from disorder sprung. 
Swift to their several quarters hasted then 
The cumbrous elements — Earth, Flood, Air, Fire; 
And this ethereal quint'essence of Heaven 
Flew upward, spirited with various forms. 
That rowled orbicular, and turned to stars 
Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move : 
Each had his place appointed, each his course; 
The rest in circuit walls this Universe. 
Look downward on that globe, whose hither side 
With light from hence, though but reflected, shines: 
That place is Earth, the seat of Man ; that light 
His day, which else, as the other hemisphere. 
Night would invade ; but there the neighbouring Moon 
(So call that opposite fair star) her aid 
" Timely interposes, and, her monthly round 

Still ending, still renewing, through mid-heaven. 
With borrowed light her countenance triform 
Hence fills and empties, to enlighten the Earth, 
And in her pale dominion checks the night. 
That spot to which I point is Paradise, 
Adam's abode ; those lofty shades his bower. 
Thy way thou canst not miss ; me mine requires." 
Thus said, he turned ; and Satan, bowing low, " 
As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven, 
Where honour due and reverence none neglects, 
Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth beneath, 
Down from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success. 
Throws his steep flight in many an aerie wheel, 
Nor staid till on Niphates' top he lights. 



BOOK IV PARADISE LOST 157 



THE FOURTH BOOK 

The Argument. — Satan, now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the 
place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he 
undertook alone against God and Man, falls into many doubts with 
himself, and many passions — fear, envy, and despair ; but at length 
confirms himself in evil ; journeys on to Paradise, whose outward 
prospect and situation is described ; overleaps the bounds ; sits, in 
the shape of a Cormorant, on the Tree of Life, as highest in the 
Garden, to look about him. The Garden described ; Satan's first 
sight of Adam and Eve ; his wonder at their excellent form and 
happy state, but with resolution to work their fall ; overhears their 
discourse ; thence gathers that the Tree of Knowledge was forbidden 
them to eat of under penalty of death, and thereon intends to found 
his temptation by seducing them to transgress ; then leaves them a 
while, to know further of their state by some other means. Mean- 
while Uriel, descending on a sunbeam, warns Gabriel, who had in 
charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped the 
Deep, and passed at noon by his Sphere, in the shape of a good 
Angel, down to Paradise, discovered after by his furious gestures 
in the Mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night 
coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest; their 
bower described ; their evening worship. Gabriel, drawing forth his 
])ands of night-watch to walk the rounds of Paradise, appoints two 
strong Angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil Spirit should be there 
doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping : there they find him at 
the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though 
unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers; 
Iirepares resistance ; but, hindered by a sign from Heaven, flies out 
of Paradise. 



O FOR that warning voice, Vv^hich he who saw 
The Apocalypse heard cry in Heaven aloud, 
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, 
Came furious down to be revenged on men, 
Woe to the inhabitants on Earth! that now, 
While time was, our first parents had been warned 
The coming of their secret Foe, and scaped, 
Haply so scaped, his mortal snare ! For now 
Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down. 
The tempter, ere the accuser, of mankind. 
To wreak on innocent frail Man his loss 
Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell. 
Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold 



158 JOHN MILTON book iv 

Far olT atul fearless, nor with causo \o Imast, 

Begins his chre attempt; whieh, nii;h the hirth 

Now rowHnj;". hoils in liis tninnhnous hreast, 

And hke a devihsh enj^inc haek recoils 

l^pon himself. Horror and donbt distract 

His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir 

The hell within him; for within him Hell 

He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell 

One step, no more than from Himself, can fly 

Hv change of place. Now conscience wakes despair 

M'hat slumbered ; wakes the bitter memory 

Of what he was, what is, and what nmst be 

Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings nmst ensue! 

Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view 

Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad ; 

Sometimes towards Heaven and the full-blazing Sun, 

Which now sat high in his meridian tower : 

Then, nuich revolving, thus in sighs began : — 

*' O thou that, with surpassing glory crowned, 
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god 
Of this new World — at whose sight all the stars 
Hide their diminished heads — to thee I call, 
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 

Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams. 

That bring to my remembrance from what state 

1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere, 
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down. 
Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King! 
Ah, wherefore? He deserved no such return 

From me, whom he created what I was 
In that bright eminence, and with his good 
l^pbraided none ; nor was his service hard. 
What could be less than to afford him praise, 
The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks, 
How due ? Yet all his good proved ill in me. 
And wrought Init malice. Lifted up so high, 
I 'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher 
Would set me highest, and in a moment (juit 
The ilebt immense of eiulless gratitude. 
So burthensome, still paying, still to owe ; 



BOOK IV 



PARADISE LOST 159 



Forgetful wliat from him I still rccc-ival; 

And understood not that a K'ratcful mind 

]{y owin}? owes not, but still pays, at once 

Indebted and dischar}:,'ed— what burden then? 

Oh, had his powerful destiny ordained 

Me some inferior Angel, I had stood 

Then happy ; no unbounded hope had raised 

yVmbition. Yet why not? Some other Power 

As great might have aspired, and me, though mean. 

Drawn to his part. Ikit other Powers as great 

Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within 

Or from without to all teni])tations armed ! 

Iladst thou the same free will and power to stand? 

Thou hadst. Whom hast thou then, or what, to accuse, 

lUit Heaven's free love dealt equally to all? 

Pe then his love accursed, since, love or hate, 

To me alike it deals eternal woe. 

Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will 

Chose freely what it now so justly rues. 

Me miserable ! which way shall I fly 

Infinite wrauth and infinite despair? 

Which way I fly is Hell ; myself am Hell; 

And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep 

Still threatening to devour me opens wide, 

To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven. 

O, then, at last relent! Is there no place 

Left for repentance, none for pardon left? 

None left but by submission ; and that word 

Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame 

Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced 

With other promises and other vaunts 

Than to submit, boasting I could subdue 

The Omnipotent. Aye me ! they little know 

How dearly I abide that boast so vain, 

Under what torments inwardly I groan. 

While they adore me on the throne of Hell. 

With diadem and sceptre high advanced, 

The lower still I fall, only sui)remc 

In misery : such joy ambition finds ! 

But say I could repent, and could obtain, 



IGO JOHN MILTON BOOK IV 

By act of ,u;racc, my former state ; how soon 

Would liiglilh recal high thoughts, how soon unsay 

Wliat feigned submission swore ! Ease would recant 

Vows made in pain, as violent and void 

(For never can true reconcilement grow 

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep) ; 

Which would but lead me to a worse relapse 

And heavier fall : so should I purchase dear 

Short intermission, bought with double smart. 

This knows my Punisher ; therefore as far 

From granting he, as I from begging, peace. 

All hope excluded thus, behold, instead 

Of us, outcast, exiled, his new delight, 

Mankind, created, and for him this World! 

So farewell hope, and, with hope, farewell fear. 

Farewell remorse! All good to nic is lost; 

Evil, be thou my Good : by thee at least 

Divided empire with ITeaven's King I hold, 

By (bee, and more than half perbajis will reign; 

As Man ere long, and this new World, shall know." 

Thus while he s])ake, each passion dimmed his face. 
Thrice changed with pale — ire, envy, and ilespair; 
Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayed 
Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld : 
For Heavenly minds from such distempers foul 
Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware 
Each perturbation smoothed with outward calm, 
Artificer of fraud; and was the first 
That practised falsehood under saintly shew. 
Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge: 
Yet not enough had practised to deceive 
Uriel, once warned ; whose eye pursued him down 
The way he went, and on the Assyrian mount 
Saw him disfigured, more than could befall 
Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce 
He marked and mad demeanour, then alone, 
As he sup|)Oscd, all unobserved, unseen. 

So on he fares, and to the border comes 
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise, 
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, 



BOOK IV PARADISE LOST 161 

As with a rural mound, the champain head 

Of a steep wilderness whose hairy sides 

With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, 

Access denied ; and overhead u])-grevv 

Insuperable highth of loftiest shade. 

Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, 

A sylvan scene, as the ranks ascend 

Shade al)t)ve shade, a woody theatre 

Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops 

The verdurous wall of Paradise up-sprung; 

Which to our general Sire gave prospect large 

Into his nether empire neighbouring round. 

And higher than that wall a circling row 

Of goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit, 

Blossoms and fruits at once of go'dcn hue, 

A[)pearcd, with gay enamelled colours mixed; 

On which the sun more glad impressed his beams 

Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow. 

When God hath showered the earth ; so lovely seemed 

That lantskip. And of pure now purer air 

Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires 

Vernal delight and joy, able to drive 

All sadness but despair. Now gentle gales, 

Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense 

Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole 

Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail 

Reyond the Cape of Hope, ^d now are past 

Mozambic, oflf at sea north-east winds blow 

Sabean odours from the spicy shore 

Of Araby the Blest, with such delay 

Well pleased they slack their course, and many a 

league 
Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles; 
So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend 
Who came their bane, though with them better pleased 
Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume 
That drove him, though enamoured, from the spouse 
Of Tobit's son, and with a vengeance sent 
From Media post to /Egypt, there fast bound. 
Now to the ascent of that steep savage hill 



162 JOHN MILTON book iv 

Satan had journeyed on, pensive and slow; 

But further way found none ; so thick entwined, 

As one continued brake, the undergrowth 

Of shrubs and tanghng bushes had perplexed 

All path of man or boast that passed that way. 

One gate there only was, and that looked east 

On the other side. Which when the Arch-Felon saw, 

Due entrance he disdained, and, in contempt. 

At one slight bound high overleaped all bound 

Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within 

Lights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf. 

Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, 

Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve, 

In hurdled cotes amid the field secure, 

Leaps o'er the fence with ease into the fold ; 

Or as a thief, bent to unhoard the cash 

Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors, 

Cross-barred and bolted fast, fear no assault, 

In at the window climbs, or o'er the tiles ; 

So clomb this first grand Thief into God's fold : 

So since into his Church lewd hirelings climb. "" 

Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, 

The middle tree and highest there that grew. 

Sat like a Cormorant ; yet not true life 

Thereby regained, but sat devising death 

To them who lived; nor on the virtue thought 

Of that life-giving plant, but only used 

For prospect what, well used, had been the pledge 

Of immortality. So little knows 

Any, but God alone, to value right 

The good before him, but perverts best things 

To worst abuse, or to their meanest use. 

Beneath him, with new wonder, now he views, 

To all delight of human sense exposed. 

In narrow room Nature's whole wealth ; yea, more — 

A Heaven on Earth: for blissful Paradise 

Of God the garden was, by him in the east 

Of Eden planted. Eden stretched her line 

From Auran eastward to the royal towers 

Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings. 



BOOK IV PARADISE LOST 163 

Or where the sons of Eden lon.2; before 

Dwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soil 

His far more pleasant garden God ordained. 

Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow 

All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; 

And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, 

High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit 

Of vegetable gold; and next to life. 

Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by — 

Knowledge of good, bought dear by knowing ill. 

Southward through Eden went a river large. 

Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill 

Passed underneath ingulfed; for God had thrown 

That mountain, as his garden-mould, high raised 

Upon the rapid current, which, through veins 

Of porous earth with kindly thirst updrawn. 

Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill 

Watered the garden; thence united fell 

Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood. 

Which from his darksome passage now appears, 

And now, divided into four main streams, 

Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm 

And country whereof here needs no account ; 

But rather to tell how, if Art could tell 

How, from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks, 

Rowling on orient pearl and sands of gold, 

With mazy error under pendent shades 

Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed 

Elowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art 

In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon 

Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain. 

Both where the morning sun first warmly smote 

The open field, and where the unpierced shade 

Imbrowned the noontide bowers. Thus was this place, 

A hapi)y rural scat of various view : 

Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm; 

Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind, 

Hung amiable — Hesperian fables true, 

If true, here only — and of delicious taste. 

Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks 



164 JOHN MILTON book iv 

Grazing the tender herb, were interposed, 

Or palmy hillock ; or the flowery lap 

Of some irriguous valley spread her store, 

Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose. 

Another side, umbrageous grots and caves 

Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine 

Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps 

Luxuriant ; meanwhile murmuring waters fall 

Down the slope hills dispersed, or in a lake, 

That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned 

Her crystal mirror holds, tmite their streams. 

The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs. 

Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune 

The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, 

Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, 

Led on the eternal Spring. Not that fair field 

Of Enna, where Proserpin gathering flowers. 

Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis 

Was gathered — which cost Ceres all that pain 

To seek her through the world — nor that sweet grove 

Of Daphne, by Orontes and the inspired 

Castalian spring, might with this Paradise 

Of Eden strive ; nor that Nyseian isle. 

Girt with ihe river Triton, where old Cham, 

Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove, 

Hid Amalthea, and her florid son. 

Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye ; 

Nor, where Abassin kings their issue guard, 

Mount Amara (though this by some supposed 

True Paradise) under the Ethiop line 

By Nilus' head, enclosed with shining rock, 

A whole day's journey high, but wide remote 

From this Assyrian garden, where the Fiend 

Saw undelighted all delight, all kind 

Of living creatures, new to sight and strange. 

Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, 

God-like erect, with native honour clad 

In naked majesty, seemed lords of all. 

And worthy seemed ; for in their looks divine 

The image of their glorious Maker shon, 



.)0K IV PARADISE LOST 165 

Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure — ' 
Severe, but in true filial freedom placed, 
Whence true authority in men: though both 
Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed ; 
^For contemplation he and valour formed, ^ 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;; 
He for God only, she for God in him. 
His fair large front and eye sublime declared 
Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin locks 
Round from his parted forelock manly hung 
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad: 
She, as a veil down to the slender waist. 
Her unadorned golden tresses wore 
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved 
As the vine curls her tendrils — which implied 
Subjection, but required with gentle sway. 
And by her yielded, by him best received — 
Yielded, with coy submission, modest pride, 
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. 
Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed; 
Then was not guilty shame.- Dishonest shame 
Of Nature's works, honour dishonourable, 
Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind 
With shews instead, mere shews of seeming pure, 
And banished from man's life his happiest life. 
Simplicity and spotless innocence ! 
So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight 
Of God or Angel ; for they thought no ill : 
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair 
That ever since in love's embraces met — 
Adam the goodliest man of men since born 
His sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve. 
Under a tuft of shade that on a green 
Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain-side, 
They sat them down ; and, after no more toil 
Of their sweet gardening labour than sufficed 
To recommend cool Zephyr, and make ease 
More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite 
More grateful, to their supper-fruits they fell — 
Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs 

K HCIV 



166 .lOllN MlI/rON luu);. iv 

^'il•Illl•(l lluMU, sitK'lon^ as tlioy sal niliiu' 

(.)m llio soft ilowiiy bunk daiuaski'd willi llowors. 

Tlic savoury pulp they chow, and in tlu- rind, 

vSlill as tln.\v thirstril, scoop tlu- luinnnini^ stnani; 

Nor }^ontk' purpose, nor ondearing smiles 

Wanloil. nor youthful dalliaiu-o. as hesootns 

l''air eouple linked in happy luiptial league. 

Alone as (hey. About Iheni frisking' played 

All beasts of the earth, sinee \vild, anil of all ehase 

In woihI or wiKlerness. forest or den. 

Sporting the lion ramped, and in his paw 

Handled the kill; bears, tij;ers, omiees, pards, 

(lamboUed before them; the unwieldy elephant. 

To make tlu-ni mirth, used all liis mii;lil, and wreathed 

His lithe pi oboseis ^ clo.se the serpent sly, 

Insiiuiatini:;, wove with llonlian twine 

His breaded train. ;\nil of his fatal j;uile 

(.lave proof uidieeded. Others on the j;rass 

Couched, and, now hlled with pasture. i;a/in,t^ sat. 

Or bedward ruminating; for the s\m, 

Declined, was hastenin.ij now with ptune career 

To the Ocean Isles, and in the ascendiuj; scale 

Of Heaven the stars that usher evening; rose: 

When Satan, still in ^n/c as hrst be stood. 

Scarce thu.>% at lenj^h failed siu-ech recovered sad: — 

" O Hell I what i\o mine eyes with i;rief behold? 
Into our room of bliss thus hii^h advanced 
Creatures of other mould -l\;irth born perhaps. 
Not Spirits, yet to Heavenly Spirits brij;ht 
little inferior — wliom my thoughts ptn\sue 
With wonder, and could love; so lively shines 
In them divine resemblance, and such j^^racc 
The band lliat formed them on their shajte hath 

-pomed. 
.\h ! gentle pair, ye little think how niijh 
\'our chani^e approaches, when all t u\se deli,i;ht8 
Will vanish, and deliver ye to woe — 
More woe, the more your taste is now of joy : 
Happy, but for so happy ill secured 
l.oii'; to coiUinue, ;ind this hi!.:;h se.i*. vour Heaven. 



HOOK IV TARADISK LOST IG? 

JU fenced for J Jcavcn to keep out such a foe 
As now is entered ; yet no purposed foe 
To you, whom 1 could pity thus forlorn, 
Tliouf^h f unpilicd. Lea^nic witli you 1 seek. 
And niMliial amity, .s(j strait, so close, 
'I'liat I willi you niiisl dw«:ll, or you with nie, 
Henceforth. My dw<:Ilin^, haply, may not pli;ase. 
Like this fair I'aradise, your sense; yet such 
Accept your Maker's work; he j(ave it mc, 
Wliich I as freely jjive. Hell shall unfold. 
To entertain you twf), her widest ^ates. 
And send forth all her kinjjs; there will he room. 
Not like these narrow limits, to receive 
Your numerous offspring; if nt) hetter place, 
Thank him whf> puts me, |f;ath, to this revenue 
(Jn yf)U, who wrrjnj( tne not, for him who wnjiigcd,, 
And, should I at your harmless innocence 
Melt, as 1 do, yet puhlic reason just — 
(llonour and empire with reven^je enlarged 
By conquerin>< this new Worlfl-j-cfjmpels me now 
To (U) what else, thouj^h rlamned, I sh<juld aljhor." 

So spake the hiend, anrl with ncrcessily, 
The tyrant's plea, excused his devilish <leeds. 
Then from his lofty stanri on that high tree 
Down he alights among the sportful herd 
Of those four-footed kinds, himself now one, 
Now other, as their shajie served hesl his end 
Nearer to view his i)rey, and, imcspicfl. 
To mark what of their state he more might learn 
By word or action marked. Ahout them round 
A lion now he stalks with fiery glare; 
'I'hen as a tiger, who hy chance hath spied 
In some pourlieu two gentle fawns at play. 
Straight crouches close; then rising, changes oft 
His couchant watch, as one who chose his grr)und. 
Whence rushing he might surest seize th(Mn hoth 
Griperl in each paw: wlu^n Adam, first of men. 
To first of women, Eve, thus moving spe(;ch. 
Turned him all ear to hear new utterance flow: — 

" Sole partner anrl sole part of all these joys, 



168 JOHN MILTON udok i\ 

Dearer thyself than all, needs must the Tower 
That made us, and for us this atnplo World. 
r>o infuiitely good, and of his goinl 
As liberal and froe as infinite; 
riiat raised ns from tho dust, atid placed us hero 
In all this happiness, who at this hand 
Have notliing nioritod, nor can potfoini 
Aught whereof he hath need ; he who requires 
I'rom us no other serviee than to keep 
This one. this easy charge — of all the trees 
In Paradise that bear delicious fruit 
So various, not to taste that only Tree 
Of Knowledge, planted by tlie Tree of Life; 
So near grows Oeath to Life, whate'er Death is — 
Soujo dreadfid thing no doubt; for well thou know'st 
«.uh1 hath pronounced it Death to taste that Tree: 
The oidy sign of our obedience left 
Among so many signs of power and rule 
Conferred upon us, and dominion given 
Over all other creatures that possess 
Karth, Air. and Sea. Then let us not think hard 
One easy prohibition, who enjoy 
Free leave so large to all things else, and choice 
Unlimited of manifold delights; 
But let us ever praise him. and extol 
His bounty, following our delightful task. 
To prune these growing plants, and tend these flowers ; 
W hieh. were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet." 
To whom thus Eve replied: — "O thou for whom 
: And from whou) I was formed tlesh of thy tlesh, 
i And without whom am to no end. my guide 
And head!, what thou hast s;nd is just and right. 
For we to him, indeed, all praises owe. 
And daily thanks — I chiefly, who enjoy 
So far the happier lot. enjoying thee 
Vre-emineiU by so much (.xlds, while thou 
Like consort to thyself canst nowhere tind. 
That day T oft remember, when from sleep 
1 t'lrst awaked, and found myself reposed. 
Under a shade, on tlowers. nuich wonderiuir where 



DfK}K IV I'ARAnrsr i.ost ]m 

Anfl what, I was, wlKrncc lliiUiftr brou^^ht, arrl how. 

Not <lislant far from thence a niunnurin^ sound 

Of waters issued from a cave, and spread 

Into a lifjuid plain ; then stoo<l unmoved, 

Pure as the expanse of Heaven. I thither went 

With unexperienced thought, and laid me down 

On the green bank, to look into the clear 

Smooth lake, that to me seemed another sky. 

As f bent down to look, just opjjosite 

A .Shaj^e within the watery gleam appeared, 

Henrling to lof>k on me. I starterl hack, 

h .started back ; but pleased I .soon returned, 

Pleased it returned as srxjn with answering looks 

Of sympathy and love. There I had fixed 

Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire. 

Had not a voice thus warned me : ' What thou scest, 

What there thf)U seest, fair creature, is thyself; 

With thee it came and goes: but follow me, 

And I will bring thee where no shadow .stays 

Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces — he 

Whose image thou art; him thou shalt enjoy 

Inseparably thine; to him shalt bear 

Multitudes like thyself, and thence be called 

Mother of human race.' What could I do. 

But follow straight, invisibly thus led? 

Till I esjiied thee, fair, indeed, and tall. 

Under a platan; yet methought less fair, 

Les.s winning soft, less amiably mild. 

Than that smooth v/atery image. Back I turned ; 

Thou, following, cried'st aloud, ' Kclurn, fair Eve ; 

Whom fliest thou? Whom thou fliesl, of him tlion art. 

His flesh, his bone, to give thee being I lent 

Out of my side to thee, nearest my dicart. 

Substantial life, to have thee by my side 

Henceforth an indivirlual solace dear: 

Part of my soul I seek thee, and thee claim 

My other half.' With that thy gentle hand 

Seized mine/l yielded, and from that time see 

How beauty is excelled by manly grace 

And wisdom, which alone is truly fair."/ 



170 JOHN MILTON HOOK iv 

So sp.'ikc our general mother, and, with eyes 
Of conjiif^al attraction unreproved. 
And meek surreniler, half-cmbracintf leaned 
On our lirst father; half her sweiliut,'^ hreast 
Naked met his, under the tlowiii},' ^oU\ 
()f lier loose tresses hid. lie, in delij;ht 
15oth of her heauty and submissive charms, 
Smiled with superior love, as Jupiter 
On Juno smiles when he impregns the clouds 
That shed May flowers, and pressed her matron lip 
Willi kisses pure. Aside the Devil turned 
l'(U- envy; yet with jealous leer malison 
l'',yed them askance, and to himself thus plained: — 

" Si<;ht haterul, si{;ht tormenting;! Thus these two, 
Imparadised in one another's arms, 
The hajipier Eden, shall enjoy their fill 
Of bliss on bliss; while I to Hell am thrust. 
Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire. 
Among our other torments not the least, 
Still unfuHilled, with pain of longing pines I 
\'et let me not forget what I have gained 
From their own mouths. All is not theirs, it seems; 
/ One fatal tree there stands, of Knowledge called, 
I'orbidden them to taste. Knowletlge forbidilen ? '' 
Suspicious, reasonless ! Why should their Lord 
Envy them that? Can it be sin to know? 
Can it be death ? And do they only stand 
I5y ignorance? Is that their happy state. 
The proof oi their obedience and their faith? 
O fair foundation laid whereon to build 
Their ruin! Hence I will excite their minds 
With more desire to know, and to reject 
Envious commands, invented with design 
To keep them low, \vhom knowledge might exalt 
Kcpial with goils. Aspiring to be such. 
They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? 
Hut tirst with narrow search I nuist walk romid 
This g;irdeu, and no corner leave unspied ; 
A chance but chatice may kvul where I may meet 
Some wandering Spirit of Heaven, by fmnitain-side, 



IV PARADISK LOST 171 

Or in thick shade retired, from liiin to draw 

What fiirtlicr would ho learned. Live while ye may, 

Yet hapjty pair; enjoy, till 1 return, 

Short pleasures; for long woes arc to succeed! " 

So sayiufi^, his proud step he scornful turned, 
Hut with sly circinusi)ection, and l)egan 
Through wo(k1, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his 

roam. 
Meanwhile in iiluiost longitude, where Tleaven 
Willi ICarth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun 
Slowly descended, and with right aspect' 
Against the eastern gate of Paradise 
Levelled his evening rays. It was a rock 
Of alahlaster, piled up to the clouds, 
Cons])icuous far, winding with one ascent 
Accessihie from Earth, one entrance high ; 
The rest was craggy cliCf, that overhung 
Still as it rose, impossihlc to clinih. 
Hetvvixt these rocky pillars (Jahriel sat, 
("hief f)f the angelic guards, awaiting night ; 
Ahout him exercised heroic games 
The unarmed youth of Heaven; hut nigh at hainl 
Celestial armoury, shields, helms, and spears, 
I lung high, with diamond flaming and with gold. 
Tliilher came Uriel, gliding through the even 
On a sunheam, swift as a shooting star 
In autumn thwarts the night, when vap(Hirs fired 
Impress the air, and shews the mariner 
l'"rf)m what point of his compass to heware 
Impetuous winds. He thus hcgan in haste: — 

" Gahriel, to thee thy course hy lot hath given 
Charge and strict watch that to this hapi)y place 
No evil thing ajjproach or enter in. 
This day at hightli of noon came to my sphere 
A Spirit, zealous, as he seemed, to know 
More of the Almighty's works, and chiefly Man, 
(iod's latest image. I dcscrihed his way 
Bent all on s])eed, and marked his aerie gait. 
But in the mount that lies from Eden north, 
Where he first lighted, soon discerned his looks 



172 JOHN MILTON book IV 

Alien from Heaven, with passions foul obscured. 
Mine eye pursued him still, but under shade 
Lost sight of him. One of the banished crew, 
I fear, hath ventured from the Deep, to raise 
New troubles ! him thy care must be to find." 

To whom the winged Warrior thus returned : — 
" Uriel, no wonder if thy perfect sight, 
Amid the Sun's bright circle where thou sitt'st. 
See far and wide. In at this gate none pass 
The vigilance here placed, but such as come 
Well known from Heaven ; since meridian hour 
No creature thence. If Spirit of other sort. 
So minded, have o'erleaped these earthly bounds 
On purpose, hard thou know'st it to exclude 
Spiritual substance with corporeal bar. 
But, if within the circuit of these walks, 
In whatsoever shape, he lurk of whom 
Thou tell'st, by morrow dawning I shall know." 

So promised he ; and Uriel to his charge 
Returned on that bright beam, whose point now 

raised 
Bore him slope downward to the Sun, now fallen 
Beneath the Azores ; whether the Prime Orb, 
Incredible how swift, had thither rowlcd 
Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth, 
By shorter flight to the east, had left him there 
Arraying with reflected purple and gold 
The clouds that on his western throne attend. 

Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray 
Had in her sober livery all things clad; 
Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird. 
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests 
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale. 
She all night long her amorous descant sung: 
Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament 
With living Saphirs; Hesperus, that led 
The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon, 
Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, 
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw ; 



BOOK IV PARADISE LOST 173 

When Adam thus to Eve : — " Fair consort, the hour 
Of night, and all things now retired to rest, 
Mind us of like repose; since God hath set 
Labour and rest, as day and night, to men 
Successive, and the timely dew of sleep, 
Now falling with soft slumberous weight, inclines 
Our eye-lids. Other creatures all day long 
Rove idle, unimployed, and less need rest; 
Man hath his daily work of body or mind 
Appointed, which declares his dignity, 
And the regard of Heaven on all his ways; 
While other animals unactive range. 
And of their doings God takes no account. 
To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the east 
With first approach of light, we must be risen, 
And at our pleasant labour, to reform 
Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green, 
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown, 
That mock our scant manuring, and require 
More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth. 
Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums, 
That lie bestrown, unsightly and unsmooth. 
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease. 
Jileanwhile, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest." 
;' To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorned: — 
"My author and disposer, what thou bidd'st 
Unargued I obey. So God ordains : 
(^od is thy law, thou min^: to know no more 
Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise. 
With thee conversing, I forget all time, 
All seasons, and their change ; all please alike. 
Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet, 
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun, 
When first on this delightful land he spreads 
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower. 
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fcrtil Earth 
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on 
Of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night, 
With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon, 
And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train : 



174 JOHN MILTON book iv 

But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends 
With charm of earUest birds ; nor rising Sun 
On this dehghtful land; nor herb, fruit, flower, 
Ghstering with dew; nor fragrance after showers; 
Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night, 
With this her solemn bird ; nor walk by moon. 
Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet. 
But wherefore all night long shine these? for whom 
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes ? " 

To whom our general ancestor replied : — 
" Daughter of God and Man, accomplished Eve, 
Those have their course to finish round the Earth 
By morrow evening, and from land to land 
In order, though to nations yet unborn, 
Ministering light prepared, they set and rise; 
Lest total Darkness should by night regain 
Her old possession, and extinguish life 
In nature and all things ; which these soft fires 
Not only enlighten, but with kindly heat 
Of various influence foment and warm. 
Temper or nourish, or in part shed down 
Their stellar virtue on all kinds that grow 
On Earth, made hereby apter to receive 
Perfection from the Sun's more potent ray. 
These then, though unbeheld in deep of night. 
Shine not in vain. Nor think, though men were none, 
That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise. 
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the Earth 
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep : 
All these with ceaseless praise his works behold 
Both day and night. How often, from the steep 
Of echoing hill or thicket, have we heard 
Celestial voices to the midnight air, 
Sole, or responsive each to other's note. 
Singing their great Creator ! Oft in bands 
While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk. 
With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds 
In full harmonic number joined, their songs 
Divide the night, and lift our thougths to Heaven." 

Thus talking, hand in hand alone they passed 



BOOK IV PARADISE LOST 175 

On to their blissful bower. It was a place 

Chosen by the sovran Planter, when he framed 

All things to Man's delightful use. The roof 

Of thickest covert was inwoven shade, 

Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew 

Of firm and fragrant leaf ^ on either side 

Acanthus, and each odorous bushy shrub, 

Fenced up the verdant wall ; each beauteous flower. 

Iris all hues, roses, and gessamin, 

Reared high their flourished heads between, and 

wrought 
Mosaic ; under foot the violet. 
Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlay 
Broidered the ground, more coloured than with stone 
Of costliest emblem. Other creature here, 
Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none; 
Such was their awe of Man, In shadier bower 
More sacred and sequestered, though but feigned, 
Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor Nymph 
For Faunus haunted. Here, in close recess, 
With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling hearbs 
Espoused Eve decked first her nuptial bed, 
And heavenly choirs the hymena^an sung. 
What day the genial Angel to our Sire 
Brought her, in naked beauty more adorned, 
More lovely, than Pandora, whom the gods 
Endowed with all their gifts; and, O! too like 
In sad event, when, to the unwiser son 
Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she ensnared 
Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged 
On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. 

Thus at their shady lodge arrived, both stood, 
Both turned, and under open sky adored 
The God that made both Sky, Air, Earth, and Heaven, 
Which they beheld, the Moon's resplendent globe, 
And starry Pole: — " Thou also madest the Night, 
Maker Omnipotent ; and thou the Day, 
Which we, in our appointed work imployed. 
Have finished, happy in our mutual help 
And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss 



176 JOHN MILTON book iv 

Ordained by thee; and this delicious place, 
For us too large, where thy abundance wants 
Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground. 
But thou hast promised from us two a race 
To fill the Earth, who shall with us extol 
Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, 
And when we seek, as n^ow, thy gift of sleep." 

This said unanimous, ^^nd other rites 
Observing none, but adoration pure, 
Which God likes best, into their inmost bower 
Handed they went, and, eased the putting-off 
These troublesome disguises which we wear, 
Straight side by side were laid ; nor turned, I ween, 
Adam from his fair spouse, nor Eve the rites 
Mysterious of connubial love refused: 
Whatever hypocrites austerely talk 
Of purity, and place, and innocence. 
Defaming as impure what God declares 
Pure, and commands to some, leaves free to all. 
Our Maker bids increase; who bids abstain 
But our destroyer, foe to God and Man? 
Hail, wedded Love, mysterious law, true source 
Of human offspring, sole propriety 
In Paradise of all things common else ! 
By thee adulterous lust was driven from men 
Among the bestial herds to raunge ; by thee. 
Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure, 
Relartons dear, and all the charities 
Of father, son, and brother, first were known. 
Far be it that I should write thee sin or blame, 
Or think thee unbefitting holiest place. 
Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets. 
Whose bed is undefiled and chaste pronounced, 
Present, or past, as saints and patriarchs used. 
Here Love his golden shafts imploys, here lights 
His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings. 
Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought smile 
Of harlots — loveless, joyless, unindcared. 
Casual fruition; nor in court amours, 
Mixed dance, or wanton mask, or midnight bal. 



BOOK IV PARADISE LOST 177 

Or serenate, which the starved lover sings 

To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain. 

These, lulled by nightingales, imbracing slept, 

And on their naked limbs the flowery roof 

Showered roses, which the morn repaired. Sleep on. 

Blest pair ! and, O ! yet happiest, if ye seek 

No happier state, and know to know no more ! 

Now had Night measured with her shadowy cone 
Half-way up-hill this vast sublunar vault. 
And from their ivory port the Cherubim 
Forth issuing, at the accustomed hour, stoocT armed 
To their night-watches in warlike parade ; 
When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake : — 

"Uzziel, half these draw off, and coast the south 
With strictest watch ; these other wheel the north : 
Our circuit meets full west." As flame they part, 
Half wheeling to the shield, half to the spear. 
From these, two strong and subtle Spirits he called 
That near him stood, and gave them thus in charge : — 

*' Ithuriel and Zephon, with winged speed 
Search through this Garden; leave unsearched no 

nook? 
But chiefly Vv'here those two fair creatures lodge, 
Now laid perhaps asleep, secure of harm. 
This evening from the Sun's decline arrived 
Who tells of some infernal Spirit seen 
, Hitherward bent (who could have thought?), escaped 

The bars of Hell, on errand bad, no doubt : 
Such, where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring." 

So saying, on he led his radiant files, 
Dazzling the moon ; these to the bower direct 
In search of whom they sought. Him there they found 
Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve, 
Assaying by his devilish art to reach 
The organs of her fancy, and with them forge 
Illusions as he list, phantasms and dreams ; 
Or if, inspiring venom., he might taint 
The animal spirits, that from pure blood arise 
Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise, 
At least distempered, discontented thoughts, 



178 JOHN MILTON book iv 

Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires, 
Blown up with high conceits ingendering pride. 
Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear 
Touched Hghtly ; for no falsehood can endure 
Touch of celestial temper, but returns 
Of force to its own likeness. Up he starts. 
Discovered and surprised. As, when a spark 
Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid 
Fit for the tun, some magazin to store 
Against a rumoured war, the smutty grain. 
With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air; 
So started up, in his own shape, the Fiend. 
Back stept those two fair Angels, half amazed 
So sudden to behold the griesly King; 
Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon: — 

" Which of those rebel Spirits adjudged to Hell' 
Com'st thou, escaped thy prison ? and, transformed, 
Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait, 
Here watching at the head of these that sleep ? " 

" Know ye not, then," said Satan, filled with scorn, 
" Know ye not me ? Ye knew me once no mate 
For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar ! 
Not to know me argues yourselves unknown. 
The lowest of your throng; or, if ye know, 
Why ask ye, and superfluous begin 
Your message, like to end as much in vain ? " 

To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with 
scorn : — 
" Think not, revolted Spirit, thy shape the same, 
Or undiminished brightness, to be known 
As when thou stood'st in Heaven upright and pure. 
That glory then, when thou no more wast good. 
Departed from thee ; and thou resemblest now 
Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foul. 
But come ; for thou, be sure, shalt give account 
To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep 
This place inviolable, and these from harm." 

So spake the Cherub; and his grave rebuke, 
Severe in youthful beauty, added grace 
Invincible. Abashed the Devil stood, 



HOOK IV 



PARADISE LOST 179 



And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 

Virtue in her shape how lovely — saw, and pined 

His loss ; but chiefly to find here observed 

His lustre visibly impaired ; yet seemed "^'^^ 

Undaunted. " If I must contend," said he, cP QJ^if*''*'^'* 

f Best with the best — the sender, not the sent; j ■** 

Or all at once : more glory will be won, 

Or less be lost." "Thy fear," said Zephon bold, 

" Will save us trial what the least can do 

Single against thee wicked, and thence weak." 

The Fiend replied not, overcome with rage; 
But, like a proud steed reined, went haughty on, 
Chaumping his iron curb. To strive or fly 
He held it vain; awe from above had quelled 
His heart, not else dismayed. Now drew they nigh 
The western point, where those half-rounding guards 
Just met, and, closing, stood in squadron joined. 
Awaiting next command. To whom their chief, 
Gabriel, from the front thus called aloud : — 

" O friends, I hear the tread of nimble feet 
Hasting this way, and now by glimpse discern 
Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade ; 
And with them comes a third, of regal port, 
But faded splendour wan, who by his gait 
And fierce demeanour seems the Prince of Hell — 
Not likely to part hence without contest'. 
Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours." 

He scarce had ended, when those two approached. 
And brief related whom they brought, where found. 
How busied, in what form and posture couched. 
To whom, with stern regard, thus Gabriel spake : — 
" Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescribed 
To thy transgressions, and disturbed the charge 
Of others, who approve not to transgress 
By thy example, but have power and right 
To question thy bold entrance on this place ; 
Imployed, it seems, to violate sleep, and those 
Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss?" 

To whom thus Satan, with contemptuous brow : — 
" Gabriel, thou hadst in Heaven the esteem of wise ; 



180 JOHN MILTON uooK iv 

And such I held thee ; but this question asked 
Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain? 
Who would not, finding way, break loose from Hell, 
Though thither doomed? Thou wouldst thyself, no 

doubt, 
And boldly venture to whatever place 
Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to change 
Torment with ease, and soonest recompense 
Dole with delight ; which in this place I sought : 
To thee no reason, who know'st only good, 
But evil hast not tried. And wilt object 
His will who bound us? Let him surer bar 
His iron gates, if he intends our stay 
In that dark durance. Thus much what was asked : 
The rest is true ; they found me where they say ; 
But that implies not violence or harm." 

Thus he in scorn. The warlike Angel moved, 
Disdainfully half smiling, thus replied: — 
" O loss of one in Heaven to judge of wise. 
Since Satan fell, whom folly overthrew. 
And now returns him from his prison scaped. 
Gravely in doubt whether to hold them wise 
Or not who ask what boldness brought him hither 
Unlicensed from his bounds in Hell prescribed ! 
So wise he judges it to fly from pain 
However, and to scape his punishment ! 
So judge thou still, presumptuous, till the wrauth. 
Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight 
Sevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell 
Which taught thee yet no better that no pain 
Can equal anger infinite provoked. 
But wherefore thou alone? Wherefore with thee 
Came not all Hell broke loose? Is pain to them 
Less pain, less to be fled? or thou than they 
Less hardy to endure? Courageous chief. 
The first in flight from pain, hadst thou alleged 
To thy deserted host this cause of flight, 
Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive." 

To which the Fiend thus answered, frowning 
stern : — 



UOOK IV PARADISE LOST 181 

" Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, 

Insulting Angel ! well thou know'st I stood 

Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid 

The blasting volleyed thunder made all speed 

And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. 

Hut still thy words at random, as before, 

Argue thy inexperience what behoves, 

From hard assays and ill successes past, 

A faithful leader — not to hazard all 

Through ways of danger by himself untried. 

I, therefore, I alone, first undertook 

To wing the desolate Abyss, and spy 

This new-created World, whereof in Hell 

Fame is not silent, here in hope to find 

Better abode, and my afflicted Powers 

To settle here on Earth, or in mid Air ; *, 

Though for possession put to try once more 

What thou and thy gay legions dare against; 

Whose easier business were to serve their Lord 

High up in Heaven, with songs to hymn his throne, 

And practised distances to cringe, not fight." 

To whom the Warrior-Angel soon replied : — 
" To say and straight unsay, pretending first 
Wise to fly pain, professing next to spy. 
Argues no leader, but a liar traced, 
Satan; and couldst thou 'faithful' add? O name, 
O sacred name of faithfulness profaned ! 
Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew? 
Army of fiends, fit body to fit head ! 
Was this your discipline and faith ingaged. 
Your military obedience, to dissolve 
Allegiance to the acknowledged Power Supreme? 
And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem 
Patron of liberty, who more than thou 
Once fawned, and cringed, and servilely adored 
Heaven's awful Monarch ? wherefore, but in hope 
To dispossess him, and thyself to reign ? 
But mark what I arced thee now: Avaunt ! 
Fly thither whence thou fledd'st. If from this hour 
Within these hallowed limits thou appear, 

L UC IV 



182 JOHN MILTON hook iv 

lUick to the Infernal Pit I drag tliee chained, 
And seal thee so as henceforth not to scorn 
The facile pates of Hell too slightly barred." 

So threatened he; but Satan to no threats 
Gave heed, but waxing more in rage, replied: — 

" Then, when I am thy captive, talk of chains, 
Proud limitary Cherub! but ere then 
Far heavier load thyself expect to feel 
From my prevailing arm. though Heaven's King 
Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy Compeers, 
llsed to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels 
In progress through the road of Heaven star-paved." 

While thus he spake, the angelic S(]uadron bright 
Turned fiery red, sharpening in moaned horns 
'J'heir phalanx and licgan to hem him round 
Willi ported spears, as thick as when a liekl 
Of (.\n-es ripe for harvest waving bends 
Her beardeil grove of ears which way the wind 
Sways them; the careful ploughman doubting stands 
Lest on the threshing-lloor his hopeful sheaves 
Prove chaiT. On the other side, Satan, alarmed, 
Collecting all his might, dilated stood. 
Like TenerifT or Atlas, unrenioved : 
His stature reached the sky, and on his crest 
Sat Horror phnued ; nor wanted in his grasj) 
What seemed both spear and shield. Now tlreadful 

deeds 
Might have ensued; nor only Paradise, 
In this commotion, but the starry cope 
Of Heaven perhaps, or all the Elements 
At least, had gone to wrack, disturbed ami torn 
With violence of this conilict, IkhI not soon 
The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray. 
Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seen 
Betwixt Astra\a and the Scorpion sign, 
Wherein all things createtl fust he weighed. 
The pendulous rounil hearth with balanced air 
In counterpoise, now ponders all events. 
Battles and realms. In these he put two weights, 
The seijuol each of parting and of 'ight : 



K V I'ARADISE LOST 183 

Tiic latter quick up flew, and kicked the l)cam; 
Which Gabriel .si)yiiig thus hesjiake the Fiend : — 
" Satan, I know thy strength, and thou kuow'st 
mine, 
Neither our own, hut f^iven ; what folly then 
To boast what arms can do! since thine no more 
Than Heaven permits, nor mine, though doubled ncjw 
To trample thee as mire. [Vor i)roof look up, 
And read thy lot in yon celestial s\^n, 
Where thou art weij^died, and shown how light, how 

weak 
If thou resist./' The i'^iend looked up, and knew 
Mis mounted scale aloft: nor more; but lied 
Murnmring; and with him (led the shades of Night. 



THE FIFTH BOOK 

TiiK Ahgumknt. — Morning approached, ICvc relates to Adam her 
trouhlesoiiie dream; he likes it not, yet comforts her: they come 
forth to their day laI)ourH ; their mornitif^ hymn at the door of tlieir 
bower, (jod, to render M;m inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonisli 
Iiim of liis obedience, of his free estate, of liis enemy near at liand, 
who lie is, an<l why his enemy, and wli.itever else may avail Adam 
to know. Raphael comes down t(j Paradise ; his appearance de- 
scribed ; his coming discerned by Adam afar o(T, sitting at the door 
of his bower; lie goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, 
entertains him with the choicest fruits of Paradise, got together by 
Kve ; their discourse at table. R.'iphael performs his message, minds 
Ad.im of his state and of his enemy ; relates, at Adam's recpiest, wh(i 
(hat eniiny is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his first 
revolt in Heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew his legions 
after him to the parts of the North, and there incited them to rebel 
with him, persuading all but only Abdiel, a seraph, who in .'irj^u- 
ment dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him. 

Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern dime 
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, 
When Adam waked, so customed ; for his sleep 
Was aerie light, from pure digestion bred, 
And temperate vai)f)urs bland, which the only sound 
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, 



184 JOHN MII/rON noon V 

Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin soiifi; 

Of I)irds on every bough. So much (ho more 

1 lis wonder was to find unwakcncd Eve, 

Willi tresses discomposed, and jjjlowinjj; cheek, 

As throuijh uncpiiel rest. He, on his side 

r.eaiiini;- half raised, with looks of cordial love 

lliinij over her enamoured, and beheld 

Heauty which, whether waking or asleep, 

Shot forth peculiar graces; then, with voice 

Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, 

Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: — " Awake, 

My fairest, my espoused, my latest fouml. 

Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight! 

y\vvake ! the morning shines, and the fresh field 

Calls us; we lose the prime to mark how spring 

C^ur tended plants, how blows the citron grove, 

What tlrops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed. 

How Nature paints her colours, how the bee 

Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet." 

Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye 
On Adam ; whom imbracing, thus she spake : — 

" O scile in whom my thoughts lind all repose. 
My gK)ry, my perfection! glad 1 see 
Thy face, and morn returned; foi" 1 this night 
(Such night till this 1 never passed) have dreamed, 
I f dreamed, nt)t, as I oft am wont, of Ihee, 
Works of day past, or morrow's next design; 
But of offence and trouble, which my mind 
Knew never till this irksome night. Methought 
Close at mine ear one called mc forth to walk 
With getUle voice; T thought it thine. It said, 
' Why sleep'st thou. Eve? now is the pleasant time. 
The coo\, the silent, save where silence yields 
To the night-warbling bird, that now awake 
Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song; now reigns 
l''uil-orbed the moon, and, with more pleasing light, 
Shadowy sets off the face of things — in vain, 
H none regard. Heaven wakes with all his eyes; 
Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire. 
In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment 



HOOK V PARADISE LOST 185 

Attracted by thy beauty still to rj.izc?' 
I rose as at thy call, but fouiul thee not: 
To find thee I directed then luy walk ; 
And on, niethouj^lit, alone 1 passetl throuj;h ways 
That brought nie on a sudden to the Tree 
Of interdicted Knowledge. Fair it seemed, 
Much fairer to my fancy than by day; 
And, as I wondering looked, beside it stoo<l 
One shaped and winged like one of those from Heaven 
By us oft seen: his dewy locks distilled 
Ambrosia, t^n that Tree he also gazed ; 
And, ' O fair plant,' said he, ' with fruit surcharged, 
Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet, 
Nor God nor Man? Is knowledge so despised? 
Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste ? 
Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold 
Longer thy offered goo<l, why else set here?' 
This said, he paused not, but with ventrous arm 
lie i)lucked. he tasted. Me damp horror chilled 
At such bold words vouched with a deed so bold; 
Hut he thus, everjoyed: 'O fruit divine, 
\ Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropt, 
Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit 
For gods, yet able to make gods of men ! 
And why not gods of men, since good, the more 
Communicated, more abundant grows, 
The author not impaired, but honoured more? 
Here, hapi)y creature, fair angelic Eve! 
Partake thou also: hapi)y though thou art, 
IIa])pier thou may'st be, worthier canst not be. 
Taste this, and be henceforth among the gods 
Thyself a goddess ; not to Earth confined. 
But sometimes in the Air, as we; sometimes 
Ascend to Heaven, by merit thine, and see 
What life the gods live there, and such live thou.* 
So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held, 
Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part 
Which he had plucked: the pleasant savoury smell 
So (|uickcned appetite that I, methought. 
Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds 



186 JOHN MILTON book v 

With him I flew, and underneath beheld 
The Earth outstretched immense, a prospect wide 
And various. Wondering at my flight and change 
To this high exaltation, suddenly 
My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down, 
And fell asleep ; but, O, how glad I waked 
To find this but a dream ! " Thus Eve her night 
Related, and thus Adam answered sad : — 
" Best image of myself, and dearer half, 
The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep 
Affects me equally; nor can I like 
This uncouth dream — of veil sprung, I fear ; 
Yet evil whence ? In thee can harbour none, 
Created pure. But know that in the soul 
Are many lesser faculties, that serve 
Reason as chief. Among these Fancy next 
Her ofiice holds ; of all external things, 
Which the five watchful senses represent, 
She forms imaginations, aerie shapes. 
Which Reason, joining or disjoining, frames 
All what we aflirm or what deny, and call 
Our knowledge or opinion; then retires 
Into her private cell when Nature rests. 
Oft, in her absence, mimic Fancy wakes 
To imitate her; but, misjoining shapes, 
Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams, 
111 matching words and deeds long past or late. 
Some such resemblances, methinks, I find 
Of our last evening's talk in this thy dream, 
But with addition strange. Yet be not sad : 
Evil into the mind of God or Man 
May come and go, so unapproved, and leave 
No spot or blame behind ; which gives me hope 
That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream 
Waking thou never wilt consent to do. 
Be not disheartened, then, nor cloud those looks. 
That wont to be more cheerful and serene 
Than when fair Morning first smiles on the world; 
And let us to our fresh imployments rise 
Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers, 



BOOK V PARADISE LOST 187 

That open now their choicest bosomed smells, 
Reserved from night, and kept for thee in store." 

So cheered he his fair spouse ; and she was cheered, 
But silently a gentle tear let fall 
From either eye, and wiped them with her hair: 
Two other precious drops that ready stood. 
Each in their crystal sluice, he, ere they fell, 
Kissed as the gracious signs of sweet remorse 
And pious awe, that feared to have offended. 

So all was cleared, and to the field they haste. 
But first, from under shady arborous roof 
Soon as they forth were come to open sight 
Of day-spring, and the Sun — who, scarce uprisen. 
With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean-brim, 
Shot parallel to the Earth his dewy ray, 
Discovering in wide lantskip all the east 
Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains — 
Lowly they bowed, adoring, and began 
Their orisons, each morning duly paid 
In various style; for neither various style 
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise 
Their Maker, in fit strains pronounced, or sung 
Unmeditated ; such prompt eloquence 
Flowed from their lips, in prose or numerous verse, 
More tuneable than needed lute or harp 
To add more sweetness. And they thus began: — 

" These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Almighty ! thine this universal frame. 
Thus wondrous fair : Thyself how wondrous then ! 
Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens 
To us invisible, or dimly seen 
In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye Sons of Light, 
Angels — for ye behold him, and with songs 
And choral symphonies, day without night, 
Circle his throne rejoicing — ye in Heaven; 
On Earth join, all ye creatures, to extol 
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 
Fairest of Stars, last in the train of Night, 



188 JOHN MILTON book v 

If better thou belong not to the Dawn, 

Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn 

With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere 

While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 

Thou Sun, of this great World both eye and soul, 

Acknowledge him thy Greater; sound his praise 

In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st. 

And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st. 

Moon, that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fliest, 

With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb that flies; 

And ye five other wandering Fires, that move 

In mystic dance, not without song, resound 

His praise who out of Darkness called up Light. 

Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth 

Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run 

Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix 

And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change 

Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 

Ye Mists and Exhalations, that now rise 

From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray. 

Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold. 

In honour to the World's great Author rise; 

Whether to deck with clouds the uncoloured sky. 

Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, 

Rising or falling, still advance his praise. 

His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, 

Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines, 

With every Plant, in sign of worship wave. 

Fountains, and ye, that warble, as ye flow, 

Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. 

Join voices, all ye living Souls. Ye Birds, 

That, singing, up to Heaven-gate ascend, 

Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. 

Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk 

The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep, 

Witness if / be silent, morn or even. 

To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade. 

Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 

Hail, universal Lord ! Be bounteous still 

To give us only good; and, if the night 



DOOK V PARADISE LOST 189 

Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed, 
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark." 

So prayed they innocent, and to their thoughts 
Firm peace recovered soon, and wonted calm. 
On to their morning's rural work they haste, 
Among sweet dews and flowers, where any row 
Of fruit-trees, over-woody, reached too far 
Their pampered boughs, and needed hands to check 
Fruitless imbraces; or they led the vine 
To wed her elm ; she, spoused, about him twines 
Her marriageable arms, and with her brings 
Her dower, the adopted clusters, to adorn 
His barren leaves. Them thus imployed beheld 
With pity Heaven's high King, and to him called 
Raphael, the sociable Spirit, that deigned 
To travel with Tobias, and secured 
His marriage with the seven-times-wedded maid. 

" Raphael," said he, " thou hear'st what stir on Earth 
Satan, from Hell scaped through the darksome Gulf, 
Hath raised in Paradise, and how disturbed 
This night the human pair ; now he designs 
In them at once to ruin a^l mankind. 
Go, therefore ; half this day, as friend with friend, 
Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade 
Thou find'st him from the heat of noon retired 
To respite his day-labour with repast 
Or with repose; and such discourse bring on 
As may advise him of his happy state — 
Happiness in his power left free to will. 
Left to his own free will, his will though free 
Yet mutable. Whence warn him to beware 
He swerve not, too secure; tell him withal 
His danger, and from whom ; what enemy. 
Late fallen himself from Heaven, is plotting now 
The fall of others from like state of bliss. 
By violence? no, for that shall be withstood; 
/ But by deceit and lies. This let him know, 
(Lest, wilfully transgressing, he pretend 
Surprisal, unadmonishcd, unforewarned." 

So spake the Eternal Father, and fulfilled 



190 JOHN MILTON hook v 

All justice. Nor dohiycil the win^vd Saint 

After his charge received; but from aniojv^f 

Tiiousaiul celestial Ardours, where he stood 

Veiled with his gorgeous wings, upspringiug light, 

I'Mew through the midst of Heaven. The angelic quires, 

On each hand parting, to his speeil gave way 

Through all the empyreal road, till, at the gate 

Of Heaven arrived, the gate self-opened wide. 

On golden hinges turning, as by work 

1 divine the sovran Architect had fratneil. 

b'roni hence — no cloud or. to iihstruct his sight, 

Star interposed, however small — he sees. 

Not unconform to other shining globes. 

Earth, and the Garden of Ciod, with cedars crowned 

Above all hills; as when by night the glass 

Of Galileo, less assured, observes 

Imagined lands and regions in the Moon; 

Or pilot from amidst the Cyclades 

Delos or Samos first appearing kens, 

A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in ilight 

He speeils, and through the vast ethereal sky 

Sails between worlds ami worlds, with steady wing 

Now on the polar winds; then with ipiick fan 

W'innows the buxom air, till, within soar 

Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems 

A pha>nix, gazed by all, as that sole bird. 

When, to enshrine his relics in the Sun's 

Bright temple, to .Egyptian ThelK\s he ilies. 

At once on the eastern cliff of Paradise 

He lights, and to his proper shape returns, 

A Seraph wingetl. Six wings he wore, to shade 

His lineaments divine: the pair that clad 

Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast 

With regal ornament; the middle pair 

Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round 

Skirted liis loins and thighs with downy gold 

And colours dipt in heaven ; the third his feet 

Shadowed from either heel with feathered mail, 

Sky-tinctured grain. Like Maia's son he stood. 

And shook bis plumes, that heavenly fragrance filled 



V PARADISE LOST 191 

The circuit wide. Straij^ht knew him all the hands 

Of Angels under watch, and to his state 

And to his message high in iif)nour rise; 

For on some message high they guessed him hound. 

Their glittering tents he passed, and now is come 

Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, 

And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and halm, 

A wilderness of sweets; for Nature here 

Wantoned as in her prime, and played at will 

Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet. 

Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss. 

Him, through the spicy forest onward come, 

Adam discerned, as in the door he sat 

Of his cool bower, while now the mounted Sun 

Shot down rlirect his fervid rays, to warm 

Earth's inmost womb^ more warmth than Adam needs; 

And Eve, within, due at her hour, prepared 

For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please 

True appetite, and not disrelish thirst 

Of nectarous draughts between, from milky stream, 

Berry or grape : to whom thus Adam called : — 

"Haste hither. Eve, and, worth thy sight, behold 
Ea.stward among those trees what glorious Shape 
Comes this way moving; seems another morn 
Risen on mid-noon. Some great behest from Heaven 
To us perhaps he brings, and will voutsafe 
This day to be our guest. But go with speed, 
And what thy stores contain bring forth, and pour 
Abundance fit to honour and receive 
Our heavenly stranger ; well may we afford 
Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow 
From large bestowed, where Nature multiplies 
Her fertile growth, and by disburdening grows 
More fruitful ; which instructs us not to spare." 

To whom thus Eve : — " Adam, Earth's hallowerl 
mould, 
Of God inspired, small store will serve where store, 
All seasons, rijjc for use hangs on the stalk ; 
Save what, by frugal storing, firmness gains 
To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes. 



192 JOHN MILTON book v 

But I will haste, and from each bough and brake, 
Each plant and juiciest gourd, will pluck such choice 
To entertain our Angel-guest as he. 
Beholding, shall confess that here on Earth 
God hath dispensed his bounties as in Heaven." 

So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste 
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent 
What choice to choose for delicacy best, 
What order so contrived as not to mix 
Tastes, not well joined, inelegant, but bring 
Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change: 
Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk 
Whatever Earth, all-bearing mother, yields 
In India East or West, or middle shore 
In Pontus or the Punic coast, or where 
Alcinous reigned, fruit of all kinds, in coat 
Rough or smooth-rined, or bearded husk, or shell, 
She gathers, tribute large, and on the board * 

Heaps with unsparing hand, ^or drink the grape 
She crushes, inoffensive must, and meaths 
From many a berry, and from sweet kernels pressed 
She tempers dulcet creams — nor those to hold 
Wants her fit vessels pure ; then strews the ground 
With rose and odours from the shrub unfumed. 

Meanwhile our primitive great Sire, to meet 
His godlike guest, walks forth, without more train 
Accompanied than with his own complete 
Perfections ; in himself was all his state, 
More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits 
On princes, when their rich retin'ue long 
Of horses led and grooms besmeared with gold 
Dazzles the crowd and sets them all agape. 
Nearer his presence, Adam, though not awed. 
Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek, 
As to a superior nature, bowing low. 
Thus said: — " Native of Heaven (for other place 
None can than Heaven such glorious Shape contain). 
Since, by descending from the Thrones above, 
Those happy places thou hadst deigned a while 
To want, and honour these, voutsafe with us, 



HOOK V PARADISE LOST 193 

Two only, who yet by sovran gift possess 
This spacious ground, in yonder shady bower 
To rest, and what the Garden choicest bears 
To sit and taste, till this meridian heat 
Be over, and the sun more cool decline." 

Whom thus the angelic Virtue answered mild : — 
" Adam, I therefore came ; nor art thou such 
Created, or such place hast here to dwell, 
As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heaven, 
To visit thee. Lead on, then, where thy bower 
O'ershades ; for these mid-hours, till evening rise, 
I have at will." So to the sylvan lodge 
They came, that like Pomona's arbour smiled, 
With flowerets decked and fragrant smells. But Eve, 
Undecked, save with herself, more lovely fair 
Than wood-nympth, or the fairest goddess feigned 
Of three that in Mount Ida naked strove. 
Stood to entertain her guest from Heaven; no veil 
She needed, virtue-proof; no thought infirm 
Altered her cheek. On whom the Angel " Hail ! " 
Bestowed — the holy salutation used 
Long after to blest Mary, second Eve : — 

" Hail ! Mother of mankind, whose fruitful womb 
Shall fill the world more numerous with thy sons 
Than with these various fruits the trees of God 
Have heaped this table ! " Raised of grassy turf 
Their table was, and mossy seats had round. 
And on her ample square, from side to side. 
All Autumn piled, though Spring and Autumn here 
Danced hand-in-hand. A while discourse they hold — 
No fear lest dinner cool — when thus began 
Our Author : — " Heavenly Stranger, please to taste 
These bounties, which our Nourisher, from whom 
All perfect good, unmeasured-out, descends. 
To us for food and for delight hath caused 
The Earth to yield : unsavoury food, perhaps, 
To Spiritual Natures; only this I know. 
That one Celestial Father gives to all." 

To whom the Angel : — " Therefore, what he gives 
(Whose praise be ever sung) to Man, in part 



liM JOHN Mil TON IKH^K V 

Siuritu.il. luay ot inuost Spirits bo foutul 

No inj;r;Uoful (vHhI : mul UhhI alike those pure 

lntollii;\M\ti;U substances rc\iuire 

As vloth wnir Kaiiotial; atul K^th contaiti 

Within tiuMU every lower faculty 

i.'K sense, whereby they hear, sec, siuoU. touch, taste. 

Tastit^jj cvnvcwt. digx>st. assin\ihtt\\ 

At>vl corporeal to incv^rporeal turn. 

V\>r kt\ow. whatever was creat^nl nev\ls 

To be sustaitu\l aiul tVvl Of KlenuMUs 

The jjrvvsser fecvls the purer: Karth the Sea; 

l\arth aiul the Sea tet\l Air: the Air ihvvse Fires 

l\thereal. atul. as lowest, tirst the Mvvti ; 

Whencf in her visajjf rxntuvi those spots. mipurjjeiJ. 

VaiHMirs not yet int\^ her sulv^tatxce turtvcvL 

Nor doth the Mo<m» wo nourishmetit exhale 

FrvMU her tnoist continent to hijjher <.~>rbs. 

The Sun, that li^jjht in\parts to all. nveives 

l""rv>i\» all his alin\ei\tal recvMupense 

In hutnivl exhalations, atnl at even 

Sups with the i.'^cean. Thouj^h in Heaven the trxx^s 

^.''f lite anibrvvsial fruitji^t' In^ar. atul vines 

YieUl t\ectar — tho\i$:h trvMU otY the K>ughs each mom 

We brujih ntelUrtuotts dews at\d fitxd the jirxnuwl 

Coverx\l with pearly jjrait^ — ^yet Gixl hath hen? 

Varievl his Kntnty so with new delijjhts 

.\s n\ay cvMti^^xre with Heaven: ami to tast*- 

Think ttot I shall be nice," So dowtx they sat, 

,\tul to their viaiuls fell : nor seet\nnsily 

The ,\n^s:xM. nor it\ wist — the c\>Tnn\on gloss 

l^f thex^U^jjians — but with keen disjvitch 

Of real hutx^^r. atnl concvx-tive heat 

To transubstantiate: what revlouitds transi^res 

rhr\>u^^x Spirits with ease ; txor wvnvler, if by fire 

l^'f svx^ty cxvxl the KwiMric Alchinnst 

Can turt>, or holds it ix\ssiWe to turn, 

Metals of dr\v<siest ore to ivrfet gv^ld. 

.\s frvMU the n\itu\ Meatvwhile at table Evif 

Ministerevl t\akt\l, atxl their tlowi'.^i: cujvs 

Whh i>%.is.;tn livjuors crvwvnevl, O itmoeencf 



HOOK V rAHADISK LOvST 195 

noscrvini; rarailiso ! If over, thou, 
Thou hail tho Sons of God cxouso to have Wcu 
l\nami>iiriHi at that sij^ht. Hut in those hearts 
Kovo iinhhiilinous roii;tu\l, nor jealousy 
Was ujulerstood, the injured lover's hell. 

Thus when with nieats and drinks they had suiVioevl, 
Not Imrdened nature, sudden mind arose 
In Adatn not to let the oeeasion pass, 
Given him hy this ijreat eonferenee. ti> know 
(tf thin!;s above his world, and of their heini; 
Who dwell in Heaven, whose exooUenee he saw 
Transeend his own si> far, whose radiant forms, 
Hi vine elTuli;enee, whose hiijh power so far 
F.xeeedcil human; and his wary speech 
Thus to the empyreal minister he framed: — 

" Inhahitant with God. now know I well 
Thy favour, in this honour clone to Man ; 
l^\der whose lowly rix>f thou hast voutsafed 
To enter, and these earthly fruits to taste. 
Footl not of Anjjels. yet accepted so 
As that more willinijly thou couldst not seem 
At Heaven's his;h feasts to have fed: yet what 
compare ! " 
To whom the winjjed Hierarch replied: — 
" l"* Adam, one Ahnighty is. from whom 
All thiui^s proceed, and up to him return. 
1 f nvU depraved from g\xxl. created all 
Such to perfection ; one tirst matter all. 
Indued with various forms, various degrees 
(.">f substance, atul. in things that live, of life; 
lUit more rctined. more spiritous and pure. 
As nearer to him placed or nearer tending 
Kach in their several active spheres assigned. 
Till Kxly up to spirit work, in hounds 
IVoportioned to each kitul. So from the root 
Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves 
More aerie, last the bright consummate llower 
Spirits cxlorous breathes: tUnvers and their fruit, 
Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublimed. 
To vital spirits aspire, to animal. 



h^ uniN MIT iv\ aooKV 

To iatc5lvv:u,;h j^ivc K>;U htc ,\»ul so»se« 
Fancy ;uul unvlcrstaiuHiv^ : whence the S<h»1 
R<^»s^vj\ rxVT.-iYf^. aiKl Kcasv>t\ b her being, 
niitcwriyYe, or h\ixnt»ve: l">i,<c\nir:i5e 
Is oftest wurss the lattvr nKv«t is v>urs, 
PitVerin^ but in Uejjrxr*', i\f kiiKl the same, 
\\\MKler n^>t, then, what G\xl t\\r wu saw gvx>i 
\i 1 rvfuse not, but cxMtvert, as yv>u, 
T<» |>r\>\vr suVtance. Tin^e tnav cxxxie when Men 
With Au^sjvls may |v»n»ci\v\te. atul firwl 
No incvMwenient vhet. nor tw Ixj^ht fare: 
And tr\^5n these c\>riH^ral luitrin-.ents, jKrhapSs 
Vonr Kxiies txwy at last tunt aU to si>irit, 
ln>pTv>Yevi bv tract oi tiu>e. aiU win^wl ascend 
l\tl»ereal, as w^, or nv»y at chance 

CJleiX" or in heavenly |\»ravhses dwell, 
li \Y K^ toutKl obcvlient, aiKl nftain 
I'naltx^rahlY firm his Kwe etuire 
W ,\re.^ Meanwhile enjvw, 

^ . -^ess T^•< *';><";n\Y state 

Can c- t>/* 

To ^\ ^ . sUKt rei^lied: — 

" O taYv>uraWe Sjurit, prv>|xUK>«s ijiicst. 
Well hast thvnt tatijjbt the way t!w: uu^ht vJirtvt 
Oxir kiK>wle\l^r, auvi the scale ».^' Xaiure set 
Fn>m V - cireuwterxntce. wherevut. 

In cv^ v: of creatcvl thiiigs. 

1\y su ^ to Ov\t ^«t say. 

What ■« Knncvt .'; \v Jv f<Mimd 

ON\li. <wj/ V an \\r want oNxlu'.toe, thew. 
To him, or ^xxssiWy his knx^ vksort, 
\\Th> fcwruKvi ws frvMW the dust, auvl \xUccd us her* 
FXtU to the ut«K\st measure o- ^^' '« 
Human vksirrfs can seek vvr . 

To whvMu the Ati^Yl>-"iN. o ;\v\v\o-.i u-.xl Earth, 
Atietvl! rhat thv>« strt V.ti^in. owe* iv> <.«od; 
l^at thvHJ . . . self. 

That is, ^^ I 

Ttxis was that ctnttvv- s: .Ivxsevl. 

G\\'. -".uu^ :>.vv IV, uct. . , 



V rAUAOIKF. LOST 197 

Atul mux! lio inndo \hcc : !nit to porsovrrc 
llo lol't il in thy power — onl;u\iotl thv will 
Hy tmluio tri\>. jiot ovcr-nilod by fato 
Inoxtrioablc, iir strict iioocssity. 
(^ur vohmt.iry sorvioc lu- rcquiros. 
Not our iioccssitatoil. Suoh with him 
Fiiuls no ;u"Ooptaiu-o. nor can fnul ; for how 
Can hearts not free ho tried whether they serve 
\\'illii\j:; or tu>, who will hut what they must 
Hy destiny, and can no other elioose? 
Myself, and all the Angelic litest, that stand 
In sij;ht of Ctod enthroned, owv happy state 
llolil. as you ymirs, while our oheilience holds. 
On other surety tuMie : freely we serve, 
Hecause we freely love, as in our will 
Vo love ov not; in this we stand ov f.iil. 
Anil some are fallen, to disi^hedieuce fallen. 
Ai\d so from Heaven to deepest Hell. (^ fall 
FriMU what hii;h state of hliss into what woo ! " 

To \vhon» our jjroat rro^enitor : — " Thy words 
Attentive, and with more ilelij;hted ear. 
nivine instructor, 1 have heard, than when 
theruhic soni;s hy nii^ht from nei^hhourini;- hills 
.\erial music send. Nor knew I not 
To he, both will aiul ileed. created free. 
Vet that we never shall forget to love 
Our Maker, and obey him whoso connnand 
Sinj;le is yet so just, my cimstant thou!;hts 
.Assurtxl me. and still assure; thoujjh what thoti tell'si 
Hath passed in Heaven some doubt within mo move, 
r^ut more desire to hear, if thou consent. 
The full rolatii>n, which nmst needs bo straui^e. 
Worthy of^acroil silence to bo hoard. 
.\nd we have yet larj^e itay. for scarce the ."^nn 
Hath tinisln\l half his journey, and scarce bej;ins 
His other half in the great zone of heaven." 

Thus Adam made request ; and Raphael. 
After short pause assontinj;-. thus bos^an : — 

" Hijih matter thou ii\join'st n\e. O prime of Men — 
Sad task and hard ; for how shall I relate 

M UC IV 



liiS JOHN Mil 1\^\ UvH^K V 

To huitian sense the itwisiWe exploit5i 
«.''{ \varri«^jf Spirits? ho\\\ without rxMUorse. 
The ruin ot sv^ n\any. glorious ouvv 
Auvl portct while they st^xxl? how. last, unWd 
The secrets ot another worUl. perhaps 
Not lawful to reveal? Yet t\">r thy s^jvxxl 
This is dispens^nl; anvl what sunuouuts the reach 
Of huu\an sense I sluxll ilelineate sv\ 
By likenit^ii' S)>iritual to eiTix^ral fonus. 
As may exprx^ss them hest- thoujih what if Earth 
l»e hut the shadow of Heaven, and thiuji^ therein 
Kach to other like more than on Farth is thoujiht \ 

" As yet this World was not. ami Chav>s wild 
Reicntnl whore these heavens now rvnvl, where Karth 

uvnv rt^sts 
I'pon her centre \H^is^\l. when on a ilav 
(For rime, thoug-h in Kternity. applicil 
"Po UK^tiou, measnres all thin^ij^ durahle 
l\Y present, past, and future^, on such day 
As Heaven's great year hring^ torth. the empyreal host 
Of Angels, hy imiH^ial sunimons calUxl. 
hmumerable KMVrv^ the Ahuighty's thrv>ne 
Forthwith frv^m all the ends of Heaven appeared 
I'uvler their hiorarchs in orvlers bright. 
Ten thous;\nd thous;\«\d ensigns high ailvanceil, 
Standarvls ami gvxnfalons, *twixt van ami rear 
Stream in the air. aiid for distinct iv>n serve 
Of hierarchies, of orvlers. and degrees: 
Or in their glittering tissues Ivar inihlaseil 
Holy meuH^rials, acts of real anvl love 
Rvxvrxlevl eniiuent. Thus when in orlvs 
t.">f cirvMiit inexpressible they sivxvl. 
Orb wiihin orb, the Father Infmite. 
By whotn in bliss imixviotnerl sal the Son, 
Amivlst, as frvvn a flaming Mount. whiv?e tv"»p 
Brightness had made invisible, thus s\x»ke; 

" 'Hear, all ye Angx-ls, »v^xnn- of Lig1>t. 
Thn>nes, IVminations, IVinccvloms, Virtues, Powers, 
Hear my decree, which utn-xvvxk^\l shall staml! 
rhis dav I have begvt whom I declare 



IKIUK V 



rAllADISK LOST 



I'.m 



My only Sum, :iiiiI on lliin holy tiill 

I rim have aiiKiiilcd, vvlinin ye iiovv Iximid 

Al my i'i^;lil li.iinl. \ Hiii In .ul I liiiii ;i|i|iiiiiil, 

/\ii(l l)y myscll have svvoni lo him shall how 

All UiUH'S ill I leaven, and shall idiilcss him Lord. 

Under his jjreal vicegerent rei).;n ahide, 

I lulled as one indiviiliial soul, 

l'"or ever happy. Mini wlm disolicys 

Me disoheys, hreaKs imiiui, and, llial day, 

( a.l onl iidiii ( iod and hlesccd vision, falls 

Into iiller darkiii-'.'., dri]) inj'iilfeil, hi; jiI.-kc 

( )rdained vvilhonl i I'diinpliiin, willmnl ( nd ' 

" So spake the ( )mnipoleiit, ami with his words 
All seemed well phsised ; all seemed, hut were not all. 
That day, as other solemn days, they spi-nl 
III soii^ .and danee ahoiit the saei'<-d Mill 
Mystical danee, whieh yonder starry sphere 
( )f planets and of fixed in all her wheels 
Kesemhles nearest; mazes intrie.'ite, 
I'leeentrie. intervoived. yet re|,MiIar 
I hen most when most irre^MiIar they :;eem ; 
And in their motions harmony diviiic 
So smooths her eharmiiif; tones that ( iod';, own ear 
F-istens deli^dited. ICyeninj; now appio.Khed 
( I'or we have also onr eveiiinjj an<l onr morn — 
Wo oiU'S for ehail).',e deleetahtc, imiI need); 
l''orthwith from danee to swi-et repast they turn 
Desirous: all in circles as Ihcy stood, 
Tallies are set. and on a sudden pihwl 
With Anj^jels' food; and rnhied nectar Hows 
In pearl, in diamond, and massy >.;<iid, 
I'Vnit of delicious vines, the ).',rowtli of llcavii. 
( )n (lowers reposed, and with fresh (lowerets crowned, 
They (s'lt, they drinU, and in commnnion sweet 
(Jnaff immortality and joy, seeinc 
Of surfeit vvlK're full m«sisiirc only hounds 
h'.XCeSS, licfnrc the .'dl III iiiiilcDils Killi;, wiio showel'eil 
With e<)pions hand, rejoicin}; in their joy. 
Now when .amhrosial Nijjit, with clouds exhaled 
I'lom tli.'it hifdi moiinl of (Iod wlicnci' li<dit and '.h,id>' 



20U JOHN MILTON book v 

Spring both, the face of brightest PTeavcn had changed 

To grateful twilight (for Night comes not there 

Iti darker veil), and roseate dews disposed 

All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest, 

Wide over all the plain, and wider far 

Than all this globons Earth in plain outspread 

(Such are the Courts of Cod), the Angelic throng, 

Dispersed in bands and tiles, their camp extend 

By living streams among the trees of life — 

Pavilions numberless and sudden reared, 

Celestial tabernacles, where they slept, 

Fanned with cool windsj save those who, in their course, 

Melodious hymns about the sovran Throne 

Alternate all night long. But not so waked 

Satan — so call him now ; his former name 

Is heard no more in Heaven. He, of the tirst, 

If not the first Archangel, great in power, 

In favour, and preeminence, yet fraught 

With envy against the Son of God, that day 

Honoured by his great Father, and proclaimed 

Messiah. King Anointed, could not bear. 

Through pride, that sight, and thought himself impaired. 

Deep malice thence conceiving and disdain, 

Stxm as midnight brought on the dusky hour 

Friendliest to sleep and silence, he resolved 

With all his legions to dislodge, and leave 

Unworshiped, unobeyed, the Throne supreme. 

Contemptuous, and, his next subordinate . 

Awakening, thus to him in secret spake : — ^ 

*' 'Sleep'st thou, companion dear? what sleep can close 
Thy eyelids? and rememberest what decree. 
Of yesterday, so late hath passed the lips 
Of Heaven's Almighty? Thou to me thy thoughts 
W'ast wont, I mine to thee was wont, to impart ; 
Both waking we were one; how, then, can now 
Thy sleep dissent? New laws thou seest imposed; 
New laws from him who reigns new minds may raise 
In us who serve — new counsels, to debate 
What doubtful may ensue. INIore in this place 
To utter is not safe. Assemble thou 



BOOK V PARADISE LOST 201 

Of all those myriads which wc lead the chief ; 
Tell them that, by command, ere yet dim Night 
Her shadowy cloud withdraws, I am to haste, 
And all who under mc their banners wave, 
Iluineward with flying march where we possess 
The Quarters of the North, there to prepare 
Fit entertainment io receive our King, 
The great Messiah, and his new commands. 
Who speedily through all the Hierarchies 
Intends to pass triumphant, and give laws.' 

" So spake the false Apchangel, and infused 
Bad influence into the unwary breast 
Of his associate. He together calls. 
Or several one by one, the regent Powers, 
Under him regent; tells, as he was taught, 
That, the Most High commanding, now ere Night, 
Now ere dim Night had disincumbered Heaven, 
The great hierarchal standard was to move ; 
Tells the suggested cause, and casts between 
Ambiguous words and jealousies, to sound 
Or taint integrity. But all obeyed 
The wonted signal, and superior voice 
Of their great Potentate ; for great indeed 
His name, and high was his degree in Heaven : 
His countenance, as the morning-star that guides 
The starry flock, allured them, and with lies 
Drew after him the third part of Heaven's host. 
Meanwhile, the Eternal Eye, whose sight discerns 
Abstrusest thoughts, from forth his holy Mount, 
And from within the golden Lamps that burn 
Nightly before him. saw without their light 
Rel)ellion rising — saw in whom, how spread 
Among the Sons of Morn, what nuiUitudes 
Were banded to oppose his high decree ; 
And, smiling, to his only Son thus said: — 

" 'Son, thou in whom my glory I behold 
In full resplendence. Heir of all my might, 
Nearly it now concerns us to be sure 
Of our Omnipotence, and with what arms 
We mean to hold what anciently we claim 



202 JOHN MILTON book V 

Of deity or empire : such a foe 

Is rising, who intends to erect his throne 

Ecjual to ours, throughout the spacious North; 

Nor so content, hath in his thought to try 

In battle what our power is or our right. 

Let us advise, and to this hazard draw 

With speed what force is left, and all imploy 

In our defence, lest unawares we lose 

This our high place, our Sanctuary, our Hill.' 

" To whom the Son, with calm aspect' and clear 
Lightening divine, ineffable, serene. 
Made answer : — ' Mighty Father, thou thy foes 
Justly hast in derision, and secure 
Laugh'st at their vain designs and tumults vain — 
Matter to me of glory, whom their hate 
Illustrates, when they see all regal power 
Given me to quell their pride, and in event 
Know whether I be dextrous to subdue 
Thy rebels, or be found the worst in Heaven.' 

" So spake the Son ; but Satan with his Powers 
Far was advanced on winged speed, an host 
Innumerable as the stars of night. 
Or stars of morning, dew-drops which the sun 
Impearls on every leaf and every flower. 
Regions they passed, the mighty regencies 
Of Seraphim and Potentates and Thrones 
In their triple degrees — regions to which 
All thy dominion, Adam, is no more 
Than what this garden is to all the earth 
And all the sea, from one entire globose 
Stretched into longitude ; which having passed. 
At length into the limits of the North 
They came, and Satan to his royal seat 
High on a hill, far-blazing, as a mount 
Raised on a mount, with pyramids and towers 
From diamond quarries hewn and rocks of gold — 
The palace of great Lucifer (so call 
That structure, in the dialect of men 
Interpreted) which, not long after, he. 
Affecting all equality with God, 



BOOK V PARADISE LOST 203 

In imitation of that mount whereon 
Messiah was declared in sight of Heaven, 
The Mountain of the Congregation called; 
For thither he assembled all his train, 
Pretending so commanded to consult 
About the great reception of their King 
Thither to come, and with calumnious art 
Of counterfeited truth thus held their ears: — 
" ' Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, 
Powers — 
If these magnific titles yet remain 
Not merely titular, since by decree 
Another now hath to himself ingrossed 
All power, and us eclipsed under the name 
Of King Anointed ; for whom all this haste 
Of midnight march, and hurried meeting here, 
This only to consult, how we may best, 
With what may be devised of honours new. 
Receive him coming to receive from us 
Knee-tribute yet unpaid, prostration vile ! 
Too much to one ! but double how endured — 
.To one and to his image now proclaimed? 
\ But what if better counsels might erect 

Our minds, and teach us to cast off this yoke ! 

Will ye submit your necks, and choose to bend 

The supple knee? Ye will not, if I trust 

To know ye right, or if ye know yourselves 

Natives and Sons of Heaven possessed before 

By none, and, if not equal all, yet free, 

Equally free; for orders and degrees 

Jar not with liberty, but well consist. 

Who can in reason, then, or right, assume 

Monarchy over such as live by right 

His equals — if in power and splendour less, 

In freedom equal? or can introduce 

Law and edict on us, who without law 

Err not ? much less for this to be our Lord, 

And look for adoration, to the abuse 

Of those imperial titles which assert 

Our being ordained to govern, not to serve ! ' 



204 JOHN MILTON book v 

" Thus far his bold discourse without control 
Had audience, when, among the Seraphim, 
Abdiel, than whom none with more zeal adored 
The Deity, and divine commands obeyed, 
Stood up, and in a flame of zeal severe 
The current of his fury thus opposed : — 

" ' O argument blasphe'mous, false, and proud — 
Words which no ear ever to hear in Heaven 
Expected ; least of all from thee, ingrate, 
In place thyself so high above thy peers ! 
Canst thou with impious obloquy condemn 
The just decree of God, pronounced and sworn, 
That to his only Son, by right endued 
With regal sceptre, every soul in Heaven 
Shall bend the knee, and in that honour due 
Confess him rightful King? Unjust, thou say'st, 
Flatly unjust, to bind with laws the free. 
And equal over equals to let reign. 
One over all with unsucceeded power ! 
Shalt thou give law to God? shalt thou dispute 
With Him the points of liberty, who made 
Thee what Thou art, and formed the Powers of Heaven 
Such as he pleased, and circumscribed their being? 
Yet, by experience taught, we know how good. 
And of our good and of our dignity 
How provident, he is — how far from thought 
To make us less ; bent rather to exalt 
Our happy state, under one Head more near 
United. But — to grant it thee unjust 
That equal over equals monarch reign — 
Thyself, though great and glorious, dost thou count. 
Or all angelic nature joined in one. 
Equal to him, begotten Son, by whom, 
As by his Word, the mighty Father made 
All things, even thee, and all the Spirits of Heaven 
By him created in their bright degrees, 
Crowned them with glory, and to their glory named 
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers? — • 
Essential Powers ; nor by his reign obscured, 
But more illustrious made ; since he, the head, 



BOOK V PARADISE LOST 205 

One of our number thus reduced becomes ; 
His laws our laws ; all honour to him done 
Returns our own. Cease, then, this impious rage, 
And tempt not these ; but hasten to appease 
The incensed Father and the incensed Son 
While pardon may be found, in time besought.' 

" So spake the fervent Angel ; but his zeal 
None seconded, as out of season judged, 
Or singular and rash. Whereat rejoiced 
The Apostat, and, more haughty, thus replied: — 

" ' That we were formed, then, say'st thou ? and the 
work 
Of secondary hands, by task transferred 
From Father to his Son ? Strange point and new ! 
Doctrine which we would know whence learned ! Who 

saw. 
When this creation was? Remember'st thou 
Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being? 
We know no time when we were not as now ; 
Know none before us, self-begot, self-raised 
By our own quickening power when fatal course 
Had circled his full orb, the birth mature 
Of this our native Heaven, Ethereal Sons. 
Our puissance is our own ; our own right hand 
Shall teach us highest deeds, by proof to try 
Who is our equal. Then thou shalt behold 
Whether by supplication we intend 
Address, and to begirt the Almighty Throne 
Beseeching or besieging. This report. 
These tidings, carry to the Anointed King; 
And fly, ere evil intercept thy flight.' 

" He said ; and, as the sound of waters deep. 
Hoarse murmur echoed to his words applause 
Through the infinite Host. Nor less for that 
The flaming Seraph, fearless, though alone, 
Encompassed round with foes, thus answered bold: — • 

" ' O alienate from God, O Spirit accursed, 
Forsaken of all good ! I see thy fall 
Determinari, and thy hapless crew involved 
In this perfidious fraud, contagion spread 



206 JOHN MILTON dook VI 

Both of thy crime and punishment. Henceforth 
No more he trouhled how to (juit the yoke 
Of (iod's Messiah. Those inchili^ont hiws 
Will not he now voutsafed ; other decrees 
Against thee are gone forth without recall; 
That golden sceptre which thou didst reject 
Is now an iron rod to hruise and hreak 
Thy disohedience. Well thou didst advise; 
Yet not for thy advice or threats I fly 
These wicked tents devoted, lest the wrauth 
Impendent, raging into sudden flame, 
Distinguish not : for soon ex])cct to feel 
His thunder on thy head, devouring fire. 
Then who created thee lamenting learn 
When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know.' 
"So spake the Seraph Ahdiel, faithful found; 
Among the faithless faithful only he ; 
Among innumerable false unmoved, 
Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified. 
His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; 
Nor number nor example with him wrought 
To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind, 
Though single. From amidst them forth he passed. 
Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustained 
Superior, nor of violence feared aught ; 
And with retorted scorn his back he turned 
On those proud towers, to swift destruction doomed." 



THE SIXTH BOOK 

The Argument. — Raphael continues to relate how Michael and 
Gabriel were sent forth to battle against Satan and his Angels. 
The first fight described : Satan and his Powers retire under night. 
He calls a council ; invents devilish engines, which, in the second 
day's fight, put Michael and his Angels to some disorder ; but they 
at length, pulling up mountains, overwhelmed both the force and 
machines of Satan. Yet, the tumult not so ending, God, on the 
third day, sends Messiah his Son, for whom he had reserved the 
glory of that victory. He, in the power of his Father, coming to 
the place, and causing all his legions to stand still on either side, 



UOOK VI PARADISE LOST 207 

with his chariot and thunder driving into the midst of his enemies, 
pursues them, unable to resist, towards the wall of Heaven ; which 
oi)ening, they leap down with horror and confusion into the place 
of punishment prepared for them in the Deep. Messiah returns 
with triumph to his Father. 

" All night the dreadless Angel, unpursucd, 
Through Heaven's wide champaign held his way, till 

Morn, 
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand 
Unbarred the gates of Light. There is a cave 
Within the Mount of God, fast by his Throne, 
Where Light and Darkness in perpetual round 
Lodge and dislodge by turns — which makes through 

Heaven 
Grateful vicissitude, like day and night; 
Light issues forth, and at the other door 
Obsequious Darkness enters, till her hour 
To veil the heaven, though darkness there might well 
Seetu twilight here. And now went forth the Morn 
Such as in highest heaven, arrayed in gold 
Empyreal ; from before her vanished Night, 
Shot through with orient beams ; when all the plain 
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright, 
Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds, 
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view. 
War he perceived, war in procinct, and found 
Already known what he for news had thought 
To have reported. Gladly then he mixed 
Among those friendly Powers, who him received 
With joy and acclamations loud, that one, 
That of so many myriads fallen yet one. 
Returned not lost. On to the sacred Hill 
They led him, high applauded, and present 
Before the Seat supreme; from whence a voice. 
From midst a golden cloud, thus mild was heard : — 

" ' Servant of God, well done ! Well hast thou fought 
The better fight, who single hast maintained 
Against revolted multitudes the cause 
Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms, 
And for the testimony of truth hast borne 



208 JOHN MILTON book vi 

Universal reproach, far worse to bear 

Than violence ; for this was all thy care — 

To stand approvctl in sight of God, though worlds 

Judged thee perverse. The easier conquest now 

Remains thee — aided by this host of friends, 

Back on thy foes more glorious to return 

Than scorned thou didst depart ; and to subdue, 

By force who reason for their law refuse — 

Right reason for their law. and for their King 

Messiah, who by right of merit reigns. 

Go, Michael, of celestial armies prince. 

And thou, in military prowess next, 

Gabriel ; lead forth to battle these my sons 

Invincible ; lead forth my armed Saints, 

By thousands and by millions ranged for fight. 

Equal in number to that godless crew 

Rebellious. Them with fire and hostile arms 

Fearless assault ; and, to the brow of Heaven 

Pursuing, drive them out from God and bliss 

Into their place of punishment, the gulf 

Of Tartarus, which ready opens wide 

His fiery chaos to receive their fall." 

" So spake the Sovran Voice ; and clouds began 
To darken all the Hill, and smoke to rowl 
In dusky wreaths reluctant tkimes, the sign 
Of wrauth awaked; nor with less dread the loud 
Ethereal trumpet from on high gan blow. 
At which command the Powers Militant 
That stood for Heaven, in mighty quadrate joined 
Of union irresistible, moved on 
In silence their bright legions to the sound 
Of instrumental harmony, that breathed 
Heroic ardour to adventrous deeds 
Under their godlike leaders, in the cause 
Of God and his Messiah. On they move, 
Indissolubly firm ; nor obvious hill, 
Nor straitening vale, nor wood, nor stream, divides 
Their perfet ranks; for high above the ground 
Their march was. and the passive air upbore 
Their nimble tread. As when the total kind 



imiU of a hitht-rta 
utipuciisncd poem by J»hn A'fi/ton, 
ifi the posst'siion of the 
A l^blic Lilrkrv 



1 






V'"" 



BOOK VI PARADISE LOST 209 

Of birds, in orderly array on wing, 

Came summoned over Eden to receive 

Their names of thee ; so over many a tract 

or Heaven they marched, and many a province wide, 

Tenfold the length of this terrene. At last 

Far in the horizon, to the north, appeared 

From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretched 

In battailous asjject ; and, nearer view, 

Bristled with upright beams innumerable 

Of rigid spears, and helmets thronged, and shields 

Various, with boastful argument portrayed. 

The banded Powers of Satan hasting on 

With furious expedition : for they weened 

That self-same day, l)y fight or by surprise, 

To win the Mount of God, and on his Throne 

To set the envier of his state, the proud 

Aspirer. But their thoughts proved fond and vain 

In the mid-way ; though strange to us it seemed 

At first that Angel should with Angel war. 

And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet 

So oft in festivals of joy and love 

Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire, 

Hymning the Eternal Father. But the shout 

Of battle now began, and rushing sound 

Of onset ended soon each milder thought. 

High in the midst, exalted as a God, 

The Apostat in his sun-bright chariot sat. 

Idol of majesty divine, enclosed 

With flaming Cherubim and golden shields ; 

Then lighted from his gorgeous Throne — for now 

'Twixt host and host but narrow space was left, 

A dreadful interval, and front to front 

Presented stood, in terrible array 

Of hideous length. Before the cloudy van, 

On the rough edge of battle ere it joined, 

Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced, 

Came towering, armed in adamant and gold. 

Abdiel that sight endured not, where he stood 

Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds. 

And thus his own undaunted heart explores : — 



210 JOHN MILTON book VI 

" ' O Heaven ! that such roscinhlancc of tlie Tlioliost 
Slioukl yet rcniaiti. where faith and realty 
Remain not! Wherefore should not strength and might 
There fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove 
Where boldest, though to sight unconquorahle? 
His puissance, trusting in the Almighty's aitl, 
1 mean to try, whose reason I have trioil 
Ihisound and false;. nor is it aught but just 
That he who in debate of truth hatli won 
Shoidd win in arms, in both disputes alike 
Victor. Though brutish that contest' and foul, 
\\ lu!i reason hath to deal with force, yet so 
Most reason is that reason overcome.' 

" So pondering, and from his armed peers 
Forth-stepping opposite, half-way he met 
His daring foe. at this prevention more 
Incensed, and thus securely him defied: — 

" ' Proud, art thou met ? Thy hope was to have 
reached 
The highth of thy aspiring unopposed — 
The Throne of God unguarded, and his side 
Abandoned at the terror of thy power 
Or potent tongue. Fool ! not to think how vain 
Against the (^nmipotent to rise in arms; 
Who. out of smallest things, could without end 
Have raised incessant armies to defeat 
Thy folly ; or with solitary hand, 
Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow, 
Unaiiled could have finished thee, and whelmed 
Thy legions under darkness ! But thou seest 
All are not of thy train; there be who faith 
rrefer. and piety to God. though then 
To thee not visible when I alone 
Seemed in thy world erroneous to dissent 
b'rom all: my Sect thou seest; now learn loo late 
How few sometimes may know when thousands err.' 

" W'bom the grand h'oe. with scornful eye ask;mce, 
Thus answered: — '111 for thee, but in wished hour 
Of my revenge, first sought for, thou return'st 
From flight, seditious Angel, to receive 



BOOK VI 



PARADISK LOST 211 



Thy merited reward, the first assay 
Of this right hand provoked, since first that tongue. 
Inspired with contradiction, durst oppose 
A third part of the Gods, in synod met 
Their deities to assert: who, while they feel 
Vigour divine within them, can allow 
Omnipotence to none. lUit well thou com'st 
Before thy fellows, ami)itious to win 
From me some plume, that thy success may show 
Destruction to the rest. This i):ui.se between 
(Unan.swered lest thou hoasl ) to let thee know.— 
At first T thought that T.iberly and I leaven 
To heavenly souls had been all one; but now 
I see that most through sloth had rather serve, 
Ministering Si)irits. trained U]) in feast and song; 
Such hast thou armed, the minstrelsy of heaven- 
Servility with freedom to contend, 
As both their deeds compared this day shall iirovc.' 
"To whom, in brief, thus Abdiel stern replied:— 
' Apostat! still thou err'st, nor end wilt find 
Of erring, from the path of Irulh remote. 
Unjustly thou deprav'st it with the name 
Of servitude, to serve whom (lod ordains. 
Or Nature: Ood and Nature bid the same. 
When he who rules is worthiest, an<l excels 
Them whom he governs. This is servitu<le — 
To serve the unwise, or him who hath rebelled 
Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, 
Thy.self not free, but to thyself enthralled; 
Yet lewdly dar'st our ministering ui)braid. 
Keign Ihou in Hell, thy kingdom; let me serve 
In ileaven Oiod ever blest, and his divine 
P)ehests obey, worthiest to be obeyed. 
Yet chains in Hell, not realms, expect: meanwhile. 
From me returned, as erst thou saidst, from flight, 
This greeting on thy impious crest receive.' 
" So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, 
Which hung not, but .so swift with tem])est fell 
On the i)roud crest of Satan that no sight. 
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield, 



212 JOJIN Mll/ION HOOK vi 

Siiili niiii iiilrrccpt. Ten p.uu'.s lin<j;i' 
III- li.u'k rri'dilrd; llic Iriilli on lu'iidid kuvv 
Mis massy spear upslaycd : as if, on caitli, 
Wimls iiiulri" j^rdiiiid, or waters lOrciiii;' way, 
.Sideloni,' had pushed a inouiitaiii from his seat, 
1 lalf-simk with all his jjiiies. Amazement seized 
The rehel Thrones, hut {greater ra.i^^e, to see 
Tliiis fdlK'd tlieir mi;;htie; t ; onrs joy ("illed, and shoiil, 
l'resa.!.',e ni vietory, ami fierce desire 
()f haldi-: whereat Michael hid sound 
riie Arch;in,nel trumpet. Throui::!i the vast of 1 leaven 
It sounded, and the faithful armies rum; 
llosannah to the llia^hest; nor stood at jjaze 
The .adverse lej;ions, nor less hideous joined 
Tin- horrid shock. Now slormini;" fury rose. 
And clanuuu' such as heard in Heaven till now. 
W'.is nevi'r ; .arms on armour clashinij hraycd 
I loiriliJt' disi-ord, and the maddinj^ wheels 
( M' hr.i/en ch.iriots r.amNl; diiH- was the noise 
( M" eonllicl ; overhead tlie dismal hiss 
()f rury darts in llaminj^- volleys flow, 
And, llyiuij^, vaulted either lu)st with lire. 
So under fiery cope to,y;ether rushed 
Uoth hattles main with ruinous .assault 
And inextinmiishahle ra,ne. All lle.aven 
Resounded ; and, had IC.irth ln-en tiien, .all h'artli 
ll.id 1o her centre shook. W'h.it wonder, when 
Millions of fierce enconnti'rim;- .Angels f<iui;ht 
( ^n either side, the least of whom could yield 
These i>lements, and arm him with the force 
Of .all their reii'ions? Iliovv nuich mon- of p<nvi\r 
Army ;ii;ainst .army numherless to raise 
Pre.adful comhustion warring, and disturh, 
'l'houi;li not destroy, their hapjiy native .seat; 
Had not the Eternal Kinc^ Onuu'potcnt 
I'roni his stronuf hold of Heaven hiufli overruled 
/\nd limited their mi^lit, lliouqli numhered such 
As e.ach divideil lej^ion miqht have seemed 
A mmierous host, in strength, e.ach armed hand 
.\ legion! Led in fu;ht, yet leader seemed 



DOOK VI PARADISE LOST 213 

Each warrior single as in chief; expert 

When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway 

Of battle, open wlien, and when to close 

The ridf^es of qrini war. No thoui^ht of Hi.i^ht, 

None of retreat, no unbecoinini;- deed 

That ar.cfucd fear; each on himself relied 

As only in his arm the moment lay 

Of victory.) Deeds of eternal fame 

Were done, hut infinite ; for wide was spread 

That war, and various : sometimes on firm ground 

A standing fight; then, soaring on main wing, 

Tormented all the air; all air seemed then 

Conflicting fire. Long time in even scale 

The battle hung; till Satan, who that day 

Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms 

No equal, ranging through the dire attack 

Of fighting Seraphim confused, at length 

Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and felled 

S(juadrons at once : with huge two-handed swa-y 

(■Brandished aloft, the horrid edge came down 

Wide-wastinj*'. Such destruction to withstand 

Tfe hasted, and opposed the rocky orb 

Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, 

A vast circumference. At his approach 

The great Archangel from his warlike toil 

Surceased, and, glad, as hoping here to end 

Intestine war in Heaven, the Arch-foe sulxlued. 

Or captive dragged in chains, with hostile frown 

And visage all inflamed, first thus began : — 

"'Author of Evil, unknown till thy revolt. 
Unnamed in Heaven, now plenteous as thou sccst 
These acts of hateful strife — hateful to all, 
Though heaviest, by just measure, on thyself 
And thy adherents — ho,w hast thou disturbed 
Heaven's bles.scd peace, and into Nature brought 
Misery, uncreated till the crime 
Of thy rebellion I how hast thou instilled 
Thy malice into thousands, once upright 
And faithful, now proved false ! But think not hero 
To trouble holy rest; Heaven casts thee out 

N HC IV 



214 JOHN MII/rON HOOK \ 

From rill licr confini's; llcivcii, tlic scil of Miss, 
]?rooks not llic works t)f vit)lciicc .iiid war. 
Ilciicc, (lu'ii, and ICvi! .u;o willi IIuh- aloiij;^, 
'Illy ()lTsi)riii>^', (o tlio plact- of I'.vil, llcll — 
Tlioti and thy wicked cri-w I (lu'rc niiiij^lc broils! 
ICrc this .'ivcnf^ini^ sword Iic^in lliy ddoin, 
( )r some more sudden veii^aance, wiiii;cd fiuin ( lod, 
rreiipilale lliec willi anj^nienltil pain.' 

" So spake (lie I'rinee of Anj;ils; to whom tiiiis 
The Adversary: •' Nor Ihink thoii with wind 
( )f airy tincats to awe whom yet with deeds 
'I'lion eaiisl iiol. Mast Ihoii linneil the least of (heso 
To ih^Ul or. if to fall, hut that they rise: 
Unvanrpiished easier to transact with nie 
That llioii shoiddsl hope, impi-rions, and with thrcnls 
To ehase me henee? h'.rr not that so shall end 
The strife which tlion (all'sl evil, Imt we style 
The strife of ^^loi v ; which we mean lo win, 
( )r tin II this I leaven itself into the I Icll 
Tlion falilesi ; here, howi'ver, to dwell liee, 
I f not lo rei,i;n. Meanwhile, lliy iilmo.l force 
And join Mini named Almiidily to thy aid - 
I lly not. hilt have son.L;ht thee far and nij;li.* 

"They ended parle, and hotli ad<lressed for fijdil 
I liispeakahle ; for who, llioii!;li with the tongue 
()f Alif^cls. c.iii relate, or to wli.il lliiiii's 
laken on earth (-onspiciions, that ni.'iy lift 
llnnian imagination to stu li hi:;lilh 
()f };d(|like power? for likesl (mmI;, they seemed, 
.Stood they or moved, in sl.iliire, motion, arms, 
ImI lo decide the i-mpire of );re.it llcaven. 
Now waveil their fiery swords, and in the air 
M.ide horrid circl(>s; Iwo hro.ad .'ains their shields 
lUa/.ed opposite, while I'Apecl.ition stood 
In horror; from each hand with .speed reliicd. 
Where eist was thickest li.L;ht, the Aii,t;elic Ihroni,'-, 
And left laiiM- licld, ims.ife with (he wind 
( )l such coiimiolioii: such .as (to set forth 
(ireat thinjjs hy small) if, Nature's coiK'ord liinke, 
Aiiionj^ the ronstell.itions war were spriinj;. 



[ VI PARA DISK LOST 215 

'I' wo plaiK'ls, nisliiiij^' from aspect' iii.ilif^Mi 

Of ncrccst opposition, in mid sky 

Slioiild c()ml).-il, .-111(1 their jarriii},' s|)hcrcs confound. 

'I'oji^ctlu'r both, willi next to aliiiij^Iity arm 

Ui)Iiftcd imminent, one stroke lliey aimed 

'IMiat mij^dil determine, and not need repeal 

As not of power, at once; nor odds ai)peared 

In mif,dit or swift prevention, i'.nt llie sword 

Of Michael from the armoury of God 

Was pivcn him tempered so that neither k<cn 

Nor solid iiiif,d)t resist that ed},a' : it met 

The sword of Satan, willi steep force to smite 

Descending,', and in half cut sheer; nor stayed, 

I'.iit, with swift wheel reverse, rleep enterint;, shared 

All his rij,dit si<le. Then Satan first knew pain. 

And writhed him to and fro convolved; so sore 

The jjridinfj sword with discontinuous woimd 

Passed throuj,di him. lint the ethereal substance closed, 

Not lonfj divisible; and from the f,'asli 

A stream of nectarous hmnour issuing; flowed 

Sanf^uin, such as celestial Spirits may bleed. 

And all his armour stained, erewbile so bri^dil, 

Ff)rlhwith, on all sides, to his aid was nni 

I'.y Anpcls many and stronfi^, who inter|)oscd 

Defence, while others bore iiim on tlu;ir shields 

Mack to his chariot where it stood retired 

I'Vom off the files of war: there they him laid 

Gnashiiif^ for anj(uish, and despite, and shame 

To find himself not matchless, and his pride; 

iliiiiibled by such rebuke, so far beneath 

His confidence to equal (iod in power. 

Yet soon he healed; for Spirits, that live tbrou^bout 

Vital in every part — not, as frail Man, 

In entrails, heart or head, liver f)r reins — 

Cannot but by annihilating,' die; 

Nor in their lifjuid texture; mortal wound 

l^eceive, no more than can the fluid air: 

All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear, 

All iiitellecl, all sense; and as they i)lease 

They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size 



2Hi 



JOHN MILTON 



UUOK VI 



Assiiiiu", ;is likt's lliciii l)r.st, i-oiidi'iiso or rare 

" MiaiiwIiiK', ill dtluT parts, like deals tk-siTvcd 
Mi'iiiorial, vvluTi- the iiiij^Iil of (ial)riil foiii;lit, 
And with Ik'rco rnsi);iis pioirod the deep array 
()f Moloeh, furious kinj;', who liiin ilefied, 
/\iid at his ehariot-whoels to ih'aj; liim |i(iiiiid 
Thrralrned, nor from the Holy Dm- ol lleavi-ii 
Ivefiiiiu'd his lonnue hlaspheiuoiis, Imt ;iiiom, 
I )o\vii eloven to tlie waist, wifli shalti'ird arms 
And mu-oulh paiu lied hi'llowiiii;. ( )ii eaeli \viii,i( 
Uriel and Raphael his vaiiiitiiij; foe, 
riiou.nh liu.i;e and in a roek of diamond aniu-d, 
Van(inished — ^Adramelecli and Asmadai, 
Two potent Thrones, that to he less than (iods 
Disdained, hiil meaner tlliomjlils leariud in llu'ir ilijjllt, 
Manj^led with j;liastly wounds throm^h jilale and mail. 
Nor stood unmindful Ahdiel to annoy 
The atheist erow, hut with redonhled Mow 
Ariel, and Arioeh, and the violinee 
Of Ivamiel, seorehed and hlasted, overthrew. 
I mi};lit relate of thousands, and their names 
ICternize heii- on h'artli; luil those ideel 
y\nj;els, eontentt-d with their fanu- in lli'aven, 
Seek not llu- praise of men: the other sort. 
In mii^ht ihonj^h wondrous and in aets of war. 
Nor ol renown less eai^er, yet hy iloom 
Caneelled from 1 leaven and saered memory, 
'Nameless in d.ark ohliviou let them ihvell 
h'or stri'ii^th from truth divided, and from just, 
lUaudahle, nought merits hut dispraise 
.And i;;nominy, yet to }>;lory .aspires, 
/ Vain Ljlorions, and throui;h infamv seeks fame: 
)/ CPierefore elern;d sileiiee lie llu'ii doom! 
,/ ' " And now, tlu'ir miijhtiest (pielleil, the hattle swerved, 

W illi many an iiM'oad i^ored; deformed rout 
I'aiU'red, and foul disorder; .ill the j^rouud 
With shivered .irinour strown, and on ;i heap 
Chariot ;iU(l eharioter lay overturned, 
And liiMv fo;iinini4- sti-eds ; what stooil reeoiled, 
( )'er wearied, through the faint Satanic host. 



.K vr TAKADISK LOST 217 

Dcfc-Msivc scarce, or willi ])alc fear surprised — 

Tlicii first with fear surprised and sense of pain — 

I'Icd i^Mioniinious, to such evil brouj^lil 

I'.y sin of disobedience, till that lioiir 

Not li;d)Ie to fe;fr, or fliK'''. '>'' pain. 

I'"ar otherwise the inviolahh- Saints 

in etihic phalanx fnin advanced entire, 

liivnhierahle, inipenetrahly armed; 

Sucli hi^h adv.'inlaj^i's their iinioccnce 

(iavc them above their foi-s nol lo iiave '.iimed, 

Not to liave (hsoheyed ; in li^^hl Ihcy slood 

Unwearied, nnohnoxious lo he pained 

i'ly woimd, thon^di from their place hy violence moved. 

" Now Ni^I'l licr course he^'an, and, over Heaven 
Inducinj^ darkness, grateful truce ini|)osed. 
Ami silence on the odi(»us din of war. 
Under her cloudy covert holh icliicd, 
Victor and Vanrpiisherl. ( )n the foii);hlen held 
Michael and his AiijmI:,, iiicvaleiit 
Encamping, placed in ^jiiard their watclic; round, 
(!heruhic waviu>< fires: on the oMur p.iil, 
Satan with his rehellious disap|)carcd, 
l""ar in (he dark dislodged, and, voiil of rest, 
I lis J'oleiit.'ites lo council called hy ni^^ht. 
And in the niiflst thus undismayttd \h'^:iu: — 

" '( ) now in dauf^er tried, now known in arms 
Not to he overpowered, companions dear, 
I'oinid worthy not of liberty alone — • 
'loo mean jjretence- but, what we m(U"e affect, 
Honour, dominion, }.;lnry and renown; 
Who have sustained one day in doubt fid lij.(hl 
(And, if one day, why not eternal days?) 
What Heaven's Lord had ])owerfidlest to send 
A^(ainst us from about his Throne, ami jud}^c(l 
Sulficient to subdue us to his will, 
I'.iU proves not so: then fallible, it seems, 
()f future we may deem him, lhou^,di till now 
( )mniscienl thought I True is, less firndy armed, 
.Some disadv.'nitap.M' we endured, and pain — 
I'ill now not known, but, known, as sfion (ontcnmid; 



218 JOHN MILTON liOOK VI 

Siiui- !U)W \vc find this (tiir ciiipyii'.'il form 
Iiir;i|i;iI)K- of iiiort.'il injury, 

lin|)(. rislialiK', and, llioiif^Ii picrcvil willi wound, 
Soon cK)sin)^', and hy native vij;i"ii- healed. 
Of evil, then, so small as easy tlfink 
The remedy : perhaps more valid arms, 
Weapons nioir violent, when next we meet, 
. May serve to heller iis and vvnise our foes, 
( )r e<|nal what !)elvveen us made the oilds, 
In iialuir none. If other hidden eause 
Left them superior, while we can preserve 
Lliduu't our minds, and understandini^ sound, 
Due search and consultation will disclose.' 

" lie sat; and in the assemhly next upstood 
Nisroch, of l'rincii)alities the prinu-. 
As one he stood escaped from cruel iii;ht 
Son- toiled, his riven arms to havoc hewn, 
/\nd. cloudy in aspect', thus answerinjj^ spake: — 

"'Deliverer from now Lords, leailer to free 
iMijoyineiit of our rij^ht as Clods! yet hard 
l'\)r (lods, and tot) nnetiual work, we lii\d 
A,L,Minst unetinal arms to iii;ht in pain, 
Atjainst unpained, impassive; from which evil 
Knin imist needs ensue, h'or what avails 
Valour or strength, though matchless, (luelled with pain, 
Which all suluhies, and makes remiss the hands 
C)f mij^hliest? Sense of pleasin-e we may well 
Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine, 
Uut live content — which is the calmest life; 
lUit pain is |)erfecl misery, the worst 
Of evils, and, excessive, i)vertnrns 
All patience, lie who, therefore, can invent 
With what more forcihle we may olTcnd 
Oin- yet unwoundcd enemies, or arm 
Ourselves with like defence, to me deserves 
No loss than for deliverance what we «)we.' 

"Whereto, with look composed. Satan replied: — 
' Not uninvented that, which thou arig;ht 
lUliev'st so main to our success, I hriiij.!;. 
Which of us who hcholds (he hrii^ht stnface' 



ii()f)K VI PARADISE LOST 219 

Of this ftiicrcuus iiiuukl wlicrcon we stand— 
Tliis cuiitincnt of s|)aciuus Heaven, adorned 
With plant, fruit, (lower ambrosial, gems and gold — 
Whose eye so superficially surveys 
These things as not to mind from whence they grow 
Deep under ground: materials dark and crude, 
Of spirilous and liery s])ume, till, touched 
With Heaven's ray, and tempered, they shoot forth 
So heauteous, o|)cning to the amhient light? 
These in their dark nativity the Deep 
Shall yield us, pregnant with infernal flame; 
Which, into hollow engines long and romid 
Thick-ramtncd, at the other bore with Ictuch of lire 
Dilated and infuriate, shall send forth 
From far, with thundering tioise, among our foes 
Such impIciiK:nls of mischief as shall dash 
To pieces and o'erwlu-lm whatever stands 
Adverse, that they shall fear we have disarmed 
The Thunderer of his only dreaded holt. 
Nor long shall he <nir labour ; yet ere dawn 
ICfTect shall end our wish. Meanwhile revive; 
Abandon fear; to strength and counsel jf)ined 
Think nothing hard, nuich less to be fles])aire(l.' 

" lie ended; and his words their droo|)ing cheer 
Enlightened, and their languished hope revived. 
The invention all admired, and each how he 
To be the inventor missed; so easy it .seemed. 
Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought 
Impossible ! Yet, haply, of thy race. 
In fntiu'e days, if malice should abound, 
.Some one, intent on mischief, or inspired 
With devilish machination, might devise 
IJke instrument to plague the sons f)f men 
For sin, on war and nnitual slaughter bent. 
Forthwith from council to the work they flew; 
None arguing stood; innumerable hands 
Were ready ; in a moment uj) they turned 
Wide the celestial soil, and saw beneath 
The originals of Nature in their crude 
Conception; sulphurous and nilrcnis foam 



220 JOHN MILTON BOOK VI 

They found, they mingled, and, with subtle art 

Concocted and adusted, they reduced 

To blackest grain, and into store conveyed. 

Part hidden veins digged up (nor hath this Earth 

Entrails unlike) of mineral and stone, 

Whereof to found their engines and their balls 

Of missive ruin ; part incentive reed 

Provide, pernicious with one touch to fire. 

So all ere day-spring, under conscious Night, 

Secret they finished, and in order set. 

With silent circumspection, unespied. 

" Now, when fair I^Iorn orient in Heaven appeared. 
Up rose the victor Angels, and to arms 
The matin trumpet sung. In arms they stood 
Of golden panoply, refulgent host. 
Soon banded; others from the dawning hills 
Looked round, and scouts each coast light-armed scour. 
Each quarter, to descry the distant foe. 
Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight, 
In motion or in halt. Him soon they met 
Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 
But firm battalion : back with speediest sail 
Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing. 
Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried : — 

" 'Arm, Warriors, arm for fight ! The foe at hand. 
Whom fled w-e thought, will save us long pursuit 
This day ; fear not his flight ; so thick a cloud 
He comes, and settled in his face I see 
Sad resolution and secure. Let each 
His adamantine coat gird well, and each 
Fit well his helm, gripe fast his orbed shield. 
Borne even or high ; for this day will pour down, 
If I conjecture aught, no drizzling shower, 
But rattling storm of arrows barbed with fire.' 

" So warned he them, aware themselves, and soon 
In order, quit of all impediment. 
Instant, without disturb, they took alarm, 
And onward move embattled : when, behold, 
Not distant far, with heavy pace the Foe 
Approaching gross and huge, in hollow cube 



BOOK VI PARADISE LOST 221 

Training his devilish enginry, impaled 

On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, 

To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 

A while ; but suddenly at head appeared 

Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud :— 

" 'Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold, 
That all may see who hate us how we seek 
Peace and composure, and with open breast 
Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
Our overture, and turn not back perverse : 
But that I doubt. However, witness Heaven ! 
Heaven, witness thou anon ! while we discharge 
Freely our part. Ye, who appointed stand, 
Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch 
What we propound, and loud that all may hear.' 

" So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce 
Had ended, when to right and left the front 
Divided, and to either flank retired ; 
Which to our eyes discovered, new and strange, 
A triple mounted row of pillars laid 
On wheels (for like to pillars most they seemed. 
Or hollowed bodies made of oak or fir, 
With branches lopt, in wood or mountain felled). 
Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouths 
With hideous orifice gaped on us wide. 
Portending hollow truce. At each, behind, 
A Seraph stood, and in his hand a reed 
Stood waving tipt with fire ; while we, suspense, 
Collected stood within our thoughts amused. 
Not long ! for sudden all at once their reeds 
Put forth, and to a narrow vent applied 
With nicest touch. Immediate in a flame, 
But soon obscured with smoke, all Heaven appeared, 
From those deep-throated engines belched, whose roar 
Embowelled with outrageous noise the air, 
And all her entrails tore, disgorging foul 
Their devilish glut, chained thunderbolts and hail 
Of iron globes; which, on the Victor Host 
Levelled, with such impetuous fury smote. 
That whom they hit none on their feet might stand. 



222 JOHN MILTON BOOK vi 

Though standing else as rocks, but down they fell 

Cy thousands, Angel on Archangel rowled. 

The sooner for their arms. Unarmed, they might 

Have easily, as Spirits, evaded swift 

By quick contraction or remove ; but now 

Foul dissipation followed, and forced rout; 

Nor served it to relax their serried files. 

What should they do? If on they rushed, repulse 

Repeated, and indecent overthrow 

Doubled, would render them yet more despised. 

And to their foes a laughter — for in view 

Stood ranked of Seraphim another row, 

In posture to displode their second tire 

Of thunder ; back defeated to return 

They worse abhorred. Satan beheld their plight, 

And to his mates thus in derision called : — 

" 'O friends, why come not on these victors proud ? 
Erewhile they fierce were coming; and, when we, 
To entertain them fair with open front 
And breast (what could we more?), propounded terms 
Of composition, straight they changed their minds, 
Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell, 
As they would dance. Yet for a dance they seemed 
Somewhat extravagant and wild ; perhaps 
For joy of offered peace. But I suppose, 
If our proposals once again were heard, 
We should compel them to a quick result.' 

" To whom thus Belial, in like gamesome mood : 
' Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight. 
Of hard contents, and full of force urged home, 
Such as we might perceive amused them all. 
And stumbled many. Who receives them right 
Had need from head to foot well understand ; 
Not understood, this gift they have besides — 
They shew us when our foes walk not upright.' 

" So they among themselves in pleasant vein 
Stood scoffing, highthened in their thoughts beyond 
All doubt of victory ; Eternal Might 
To match with their inventions they presumed 
So easy, and of his thunder made a scorn, 



BOOK VI PARADISE LOST 223 

And all his host derided, while they stood 

A while in trouble. But they stood not long; 

Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms 

Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose. 

Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power, 

Which God hath in his mighty Angels placed !) 

Their arms away they threw, and to the hills 

(For Earth hath this variety from Heaven 

Of pleasure situate in hill and dale) 

Light as the lightning-glimpse they ran, they flew ; 

From their foundations, loosening to and fro, 

They plucked the seated hills, with all their load, 

Rocks, waters, woods, and, by the shaggy tops 

Uplifting, bore them in their hands. Amaze, 

Be sure, and terror, seized the rebel Host, 

When coming towards them so dread they saw 

The bottom of the mountains upward turned. 

Till on those cursed engines' triple row 

They saw them whelmed, and all their confidence 

Under the weight of mountains buried deep ; 

Themselves invaded next, and on their heads 

Main promontories flung, which in the air 

Came shadowing, and oppressed whole legions armed. 

Xheir armour helped their harm, crushed in and 

bruised, 
Into their substance pent — which wrought them pain 
Implacable, and many a dolorous groan. 
Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind 
Out of such prison, though Spirits of purest light. 
Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. 
The rest, in imitation, to like arms 
Betook them, and the neighbouring hills uptore ; 
So hills amid the air encountered hills, 
Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire, 
That underground they fought in dismal shade: 
Infernal noise! war seemed a civil game .y 

To this uproar; horrid confusion heaped 
Upon confusion rose. And now all Heaven 
Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread, 
Had not the Almighty Father, where he sits 



2H JOHN MIITON ihh»k vi 

Sluinoil in his sanctuary of Heaven secure, 
Consult inj; on the sum of thinjjs. foreseen 
This tunuilt, aiul permitted all. advised. 
That his s;reat purpose he might so fultil, 
l\> honour his Anointed Son, avenged 
Upon his enennes, and to declare 
All power on him transferred. Whence to his Son. 
rhe assessor of his Throne, he thus began : — 

" ' KtYulgence of my glory. Son beloved. 
Ami in whose face invisible is beheld 
Visibly, what by Deity 1 am. 
And in whose hand what by decree I do. 
Second l")nu\ipotence ! two days are passed. 
Two days, as we compute the days of Heaven. 
Since Michael and his Towers went forth to tame 
Tliese disobedient. Sore hath been their tight. 
As likeliest was when two such foes met armed: 
For to themselves 1 left them; and thou know'st 
Equal in their creation they were formed. 
Save what sin hatU impaired — which yet hath wrought 
Inseixsibly. for I suspend their doom : 
Wltence iti perpetual tight they needs umst last 
Endless, and no solutioti will be found. 
War wearied hath performed what war can do. 
Atul to disordered rage let loose the reins. 
With mountains, as with weapons, armed; which 

makes 
Wild work in Heaven, and dangerous to the main. 
Two days are, therefore, passed; the third is thine: 
iH^r thee I have on.laine\l it. and thus far 
J lave sutYered. that the glory may W thine 
Of ei\dit\g this great war, since none but thou 
Can end it. Into thee such virtue and grace 
luuuense I have transfused, that all may kiiow 
In Heaven and Hell thy ixnver above cvMupare. 
And this perverse comtnotion gv">verned thus. 
To manifest thee worthiest to be Heir 
Of all things — to W Heir, and to l>e King 
liy Siicred unction, thy deservCxl right. 
Co. the»i. thou Mightiest, in thv Father's might: 



l!iH)K VI IWUAniSK l.lXST L'25 

Asceiul luy chariot ; jj"'''!'^ t'^i' rapid wliools 
That shako lloavon's basis; hriui;- forth all my war; 
My how ami thmulor. my almighty arms. 
Ciivd on. anil sword upon thy puissant thijih ; 
Pursuo those Sot\s of Oarknoss. ilrivo thorn out 
I'rom all Hoavon's hounds into tho nttor Poop; 
riioro lot thom loarn, as likos thorn, to ilospiso 
God. and Mossiah his anointod Kins;.' 

" Ho saiil. anil on his Son with rays diroct 
Shon fidl. Ho all his l""athor full oxprossod 
ItiotTahly into his faco roooivod ; 
Anil thus tho V'ilial tiinlhoail attsworim; spako : — 

"'(.'> h'athor. O Supron)o of Hoavonly ThrtMios. 
First. Hijjhost. Holiost, Host, thou always sook'st 
Vo jj'lorify thy Son; 1 always thoo. 
As is ujost just. This I tny i;lory account. 
My oxaltatiott. and n>y whole dolij;ht, 
That thou in mo, woll ploasod. iloclar'st tliy will 
h'ultillod. which to fultil is all my bliss. 
Scoptro and power, thy givinij'. 1 assume. 
.\nil j^ladlior shall rosij;n when it\ tho end 
Thou shalt bo all m all. and I in thee 
I'or over, and in mo all whom thou lov'st. 
I'ut whom thou hat'st I hate, and can put on 
Thy terrors, as I put thy miUlnoss on. 
Imago of thee in all thinj^s: and shall soon. 
Armoil with thy might, rid Heaven of these roholled. 
To their prepared ill mansion driven down, 
To chains of darkness and the undying Worm, 
That from thy just olvdiotico could revolt. 
Whom to obey is happiness entire. 
Then shall thy Saints, unmixed, and friMu tho impure 
I'ar separate, circling thy holy Mount. 
Unfeigned halleluiahs to thoo sing. 
Hytnns of high praise, and I among them chief.' 

" So said. He. o'er his sceptre bowing, rose 
From tho right hand of Glory whore 1 lo sat ; 
.\nd tho third sacred niorn began to shine, 
Pawnitig through Heaven, b'ortli rushed with whirl- 
wind sound 



226 JOHN MILTON BOOK VI 

The chariot of Pak-nial Deity, ('^"■ir-Ki 

Flasliiiic; thick (laiiios, wheel within wheel; undrawn. 
Itself instinct with spirit, but convoyed 
]\y four cherubic Shapes. lunir faces each 
Hail wondrous; as with stars, their bodies all 
And winj;s were set with eyes; with eyes the wheels 
Of beryl, and careering fires between ; 
Over their beads a crystal firin.iment, 
Whereon a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure 
Amber and colours of the showery arch. 
He, in celestial panoply all armed 
Of radiant llrini. work divinely wroujjht. 
Ascended : at his ripfht hand Victory 
Sat eat:;le-win<;ed ; beside him buntj his bow, 
And (luiver. with tbree-bolleil thunder stored; • 
And from about bini fierce effusion rowled 
Of smoke and bickerinsj^ llanie and sparkles dire. 
Attended with ten thousand thousatul Saints. 
He onward came; far off his coming shon ; 
And twenty thousand (I their number heard) 
Chariots of (kkI, half on each hand, were seen. 
He on the wings of Cherub rode sublime 
On the crystallin sky, in saphir throned — 
Illustrious far and wide, but by his own 
First seen. Them unexpected joy surprised 
When the great ensign of Messiah bla/.ed 
Aloft, by Angels borne, his Sign in Heaven; 
Under whose conduct Michael soon reduced 
His army, circumfuscd on either wing, 
ITnder their Head embodied all in one. 
Before him Power Divine bis way prepared; 
At his command the uprooted hills retired 
Fach to bis place; they heard his voice, and went 
Obsetjuious; Heaven bis wonted face renewed. 
And with fresh flowerets bill and valley smiled. 
" This saw his hapless foes, but stood obdured. 
And to rebellious fight rallied their Powers, 
Insensate, hope conceiving from despair. 
In Heavenly Spirits coidd such perversencss dwell? 
But to convince the proud what signs avail. 



nooK VI PARADISE LOST 227 

Or wonders move the ohdiiratc to relent? 
They, hardened more hy wliat miglit most reclaim, 
Grieving to see his glory, at the sight 
Took envy, and, aspiring to his highth. 
Stood re-imhattled fierce, by force or fraud 
rfi v. , Weening to prosper, and at length prevail 
^Against God and Messiah, or to fall 
In universal ruin last; and now 
To final battle drew, disdaining llight, 
Or faint retreat: when the great Son of God 
To all his host on either hand thus spake : — 

" ' Stand still in bright array, ye Saints; here stand, 
Ye Angels armed; this day from battle rest. 
Faithful hath been your warfare, and of God 
Accepted, fearless in his righteous cause ; 
And, as ye have received, so have ye done. 
Invincibly. I'ut of this cursed crew 
The punishment to other hand belongs; 
Vengeance is his, or whose He sole appoints. 
Number to this day's work is not ordained, 
Nor multitude ; stand only and behold 
God's indignation on these godless poured 
By me. Not you, but me, they have despised. 
Yet envied; against me is all their rage, 
Because the Father, to whom in Heaven supreme 
Kingdom and power and glory appertains, 
Hath honoured me, according to his will. 
Therefore to me their doom he hath assigned, 
That they may have their wish, to try with me 
In battle which the stronger proves — they all, 
Or I alone against them ; since by strength 
They measure all, of other excellence 
Not emulous, nor care who them excels ; 
Nor other strife with them do I voutsafe.' 

" So spake the Son, and into terror changed 
His countenance, too severe to be beheld, 
And full of wrauth bent on his enemies. 
At once the Innir spread out their starry wings 
With dreadful .shade contiguous, and the orbs 
Of his fierce chariot rowled, as with the sound 



228 JOHN MII^TON DOOK VI 

()f loiTriil llodds, or of a iiuiiicrous host. 
Mr oil his impious foes rif;ht onward (hovo, 
( iloomy as Nii;ht. Under liis hurnint:; wheels 
'I'lic steadfast Empyrean shook throutjhout, 
All hilt the 1'hrone itself of Clod. Full soon 
Ainoni,' them he arrived, in his riqht hand 
(Iraspinjj; ten thonsand llumders, whieh he sent 
lU'fore him, sncli as in their souls infixed 
IMas^ues. 'They, astonished, all resistanee lost. 
All eonraive; down their idle weapons droj)! ; 
( )\-r shields, and helms, and helmed he;uls he rode 
()f i'liidnes and iiiiijhty Seraphim prostrate', 
That wislu'd the mountains now nii.t:;ht he apjain 
Thrown on them, as a shelter from his ire. 
Nor less on eitlier side tempestuous fell 
His arrows, from the fourfold-visa.^ed l'"onr, 
Dislinet with eyes, and from the living wheels, 
histinet alike with nmltitnde of eyes; 
One spirit in Ihem ruled, and every eye 
(ilareil lightniii};', ami shot forth pernicious fire 
Among the accursed, that withered all lluir strenglh. 
And of their wonted vigour left them drained, 
ICxhausted. spiritless, alllicted, fallen, 
Yet half his strength he put not forth, hut checked 
Tlis thunder in mid-volley; for he meant 
Not to destroy, hut root them out of Heaven. 
The overthrown he raised, and, as a henl 
Of goats or timorous (lock together thronged, 
Prove them hefore him thunderslruck, pursued 
With terrors and with furies to the hounds 
And crystal wall of Heaven; which, opening wide, 
Rowled inward, and a spacious gap disclosed 
Into the wasteful Deep. The monstrous sight 
Slrook Ihem with horror hackward; hut far worse 
ITrgetl them hehind : headlong themselves they threw , 
Down from the verge of Heaven: eternal wraulh 
r.nrni .ifler Ihcnt to the hotlomless pit^ 
" Hell hearil the nnsurferahlc noise; iTell saw 
J leaven ruining from lle.'iven, ;uid would have lied 
AlTrighled; hut strict I'ate h.ad cast too deep 



K VI PAHA DISK LOST 229 

Her dark foundations, and too fast had hound. 
Nine days tlicy fell ; confounded Chaos roared. 
And felt tenfold confusion in their fall 
Throuj^di his wild Anarchy; so huf:;e a rout 
Incumbered him with ruin. Ilcll at last, 
Yawninj,', received them whole, and on tiiem closed — 
Hell, their fit hahitalion, frau/;lit with fire 
lln(|uenchal)le, the house of woe and pain. 
l)isl)iu-(lened Heaven rejoiced, and soon rcpaiicd 
Her mural breach, returniu}^ whence it rowlcd. 
Sole victor, from the expulsion of his foes 
Messiah his triumphal chariot turned. 
To meet him all his Saints, who silent stood 
Eye-witnesses of his almighty acts. 
With jubilee aflvanced ; .and, as they went, 
Shaded with branching p.alm, each order bright 
Sung triumph, .and him stnig victorious King, 
Son, Heir, and Lord, to him dominion given, 
Worthiest to reign. He celebrated rode 
Triumphant through mid Heaven, into the courts 
And temple of his mighty Father throned 
On high; who into glory him received, 
Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss. 
"Thus measuring things in I leaven by things on 
Earth. 
At thy ref|uest, .and that thou m.ay'st beware 
T^y what is past, to thee I have revealed 
What might have else to human race been hid — 
The discord which befell, and war in Heaven 
Among the Angelic Powers, and the deep fall 
Of those too high aspiring who rebelled 
With .Satan : he who envies now thy state, 
Who now is plf)tfing how he may seduce 
Thee also from obedience, that, with him 
Rcreaved of happiness, Ihon may'st partake 
His punishment, eternal misery; 
Which would be all his solace and revenge. 
As a despite done against the Most High, 
Thee once to gain companion of his woe. 
But listen not to his temptations ; warn 
o ut: IV 



230 JOHN MILTON BOOK VII 

Thy weaker ; let it profit thee to have heard, 
By terrible example, the reward 
Of disobedience. Firm they might have stood, 
Yet fell. Remember, and fear to transgress." 



THE SEVENTH BOOK 

TiiK Akc.umknt. — Rapli.-vcl, at the request of Adain, relates how 
and wherefore this World was first ereated : — that God, after the 
expelling of Satan and his Angels out of Heaven, declared his 
ple.isure to ercate another World, and other creatures to dwell 
therein ; sends his Son with glory, and attendance of Angels, to 
perform the work of creation in six days: the Angels celebrate with 
hymns the performance thereof, and his reascension into Heaven. 

[~)ES(KNn from Heaven, Urania, by that name 
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine 
Following, above the Olympian hill I soar, 
Above the flight of Pogasean wing ! 
The meaning, not the name, I call; for thou 
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top 
Of old Olympus dwell'st ; but, heavenly-born, 
Before the hills appeared or fountain flowed. 
Thou with Eternal Wisdom didst converse. 
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play 
Tn presence of the Almighty Father, pleased 
With thy celestial song. Up led by thee. 
Into the Heaven of Heavens T have presumed. 
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air. 
Thy tempering. With like safety guided down. 
Return me to my native element ; 
Lest, from this flying steed unreined (as once 
Bellerophon. though from a lower clime) 
Dismoimted, on the Aleian field I fall, 
Erroneous there to wander and forlorn. 
Half vet remains unsung, but narrower bound 
Within the visible Diurtial Sphere. 
Standing on Earth, not rapt above the pole. 
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged 



UOOK VII PAKADISK LOST 231 

Tci luiarsc or niuk-, tliouj^li fallen on evil days, 
On evil (lays though fallen, and evil tongues, 
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round, 
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou 
Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or when Morn 
Purples the East. Still govern thou my song, 
Urania, and lit audience lind, though few* 
lUit drive far off the barbarous dissonance 
Of r.acchus and his revellers, the race 
Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian Bard 
In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears 
To rapture, till the savage clamour drowned 
I5oth harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend 
Her son. So fail not thou who line imi)lores; 
For thou art heavenly, she an eniply dream. 

Say, Cioddess, what ensued when Ra[)hael, 
The alTable Archangel, had forewarned 
Adam, by dire example, to beware 
Apostasy, by what befell in Heaven 
To those apostates, lest the like befall 
In Paradise to Adam or his race, 
Charged not to touch the interdicted Tree, 
If they transgress, and slight that sole comiuand, 
So easily obeyed amid the choice 
Of all tastes else to please their api)e(ite. 
Though wandering. Ho, with his consorted Eve, 
The story heard attentive, and was lilleil 
With admiration and deep muse, to hear 
Of things so high and strange — things to their llu)ught 
So unimaginal)le as hate in Heaven, 
And war so near the peace of Clod in bliss, 
With such confusion; but the evil, soon 
Driven back, redounded as a Hood on those 
From whom it sprung, iiu[)ossible to mix 
With blessedness. Whence Adam soon repealed 
The doubts that in his heart arose ; and, now 
Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know 
What nearer might concern him — -how this World 
Of heaven and earth conspicuous first began ; 
When, and whereof, created; for "what cause; 



232 JOHN MILTON BOOK VII 

What within Eden, or without, was done 
J')cforc his memory — as one whose drouth, 
Yet scarce allayed, still eyes the current stream, 
Whose liquid nuu-nuu- heard new thirst excites, 
I'roceeded thus to ask his Heavenly Guest: — 

" Great things, and full of wonder in our cars, 
Far differing from this World, tliou hast revealed. 
Divine Interpreter ! by favour sent 
Down from the Empyrean to forewarn 
Us timely of what might else have been our loss, 
Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach ; 
I'or which to the inhnitely Good we owe 
Immortal tlianks, and his admonishment 
Receive with solenm purpose to observe 
Inunutably his sovran will, the entl 
Of what wc are. But, since thou hast voutsafed 
Gently, for our instruction, to impart 
Things above Earthly thought, which yet concerned 
Our knowing, as to highest Wisdom seemed, 
Deign to descend now lower, and relate 
AVhat may no less perhaps avail us known — 
How first began this Heaven which we behold 
Distant so high, with moving fires adorned 
Innumerable; and this which yields or fills 
All space, the ambient Air, wide interfused, 
Imbracing round this florid Earth; what ,ca.use 
Moved the Creator, in his holy rest 
Through all eternity, so late to build 
In Chaos ; and. the work begun, how soon 
Absolved: if unforbid thou may'st unfold 
What we not to explore the secrets ask 
Of his eternal empire, but the more 
To magnify his works the more we know. 
And the great Light of Day yet wants to run 
Much of his race, though steep. Suspense in heaven 
Held by thy voice, thy potent voice he hears 
And longer will delay, to hear thee tell 
His generation, and the rising birth 
Of Nature from the unapparcnt Deep: 
Or, if the Star of Evening and the Moon 



uooKVii PARADISE LOST 233 

Haste to thy aiulicncc, Ni.qht with hiT will hiin;^ 
Silence, and Sleep listeniii;.^- to thee will watch; 
Or we can hid his ahsence till thy soiijif 
End. and dismiss thee ere the niornin<^ shine." 

Thus Adam his illustrious ijuest hesoujjjht ; 
And thus the godlike Angel answered mild : — 

" This also thy request, with caution asked, 
Ohtain ; though to recount almighty works 
What words or tongue of Scra])h can siidict^ 
Or heart of man suffice to coniprehend ? -^j <^ '^*'^ 
Yet what thou canst attain, which hest may serve 
To glorify the Maker, and infer 
Thee also happier, shall not he withheld 
Thy hearing. Such commission from ahovc 
I have received, to answer thy desire 
Of knowledge within bounds; beyond abstain 
To ask, nor let thine own inventions hope 
Things not revealed, which the invisible King, 
Only Omniscient, hath supi)ressed in night. 
To none comnnmicable in Earth or Heaven, 
Enough is left besides to search and know; 
r>ut Knowdedge is as food, and needs no less 
Her temperance over appetite, to know 
In measure what the mind may well contain; 
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns 
Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind. 

" Know then that, after Lucifer from Heaven 
(So call him. brighter once amidst the host 
Of Angels than that star the stars among) 
Eell with his flaming Eegions through the Deep . 
Into his place, and the great Son returned 
Victorious with his Saints, the Onmipotent 
Eternal Father from his Throne beheld 
Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake: — 

" 'At least our envious foe hath failed, who thought 
All like himself rebellious; by whose aid 
This inaccessible high strength, the seat 
Of Deity supreme, us dispossessed, 
He trusted to have seized, and into fraud 
Drew many whom their place knows here no more. 



234 JOHN MILTON BOOK VI I 

Yet far the greater part have kept, I see, 
Their station ; Heaven, yet populous, retains 
Number sufficient to possess her realms, 
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent 
With ministeries due and solemn rites. 
* But, lest his heart exalt him in the harm 
Already done, to have dispeopled Heaven — 
My damage fondly deemed — I can repair 
That detriment, if such it be to lose 
Self-lost, and in a moment w^ill create 
Another world ; out of one man a race 
Of men innumerable, there to dwell, 
Not here, till, by degrees of merit raised, 
They open to themselves at length the way 
Up hither, imder long obedience tried. 
And Earth be changed to Heaven, and Heaven to Earth, 
One kingdom, joy and union without end. 
Meanwhile inhabit lax, ye Powers of Heaven; 
And thou, my Word, begotten Son, by thee 
This I perform ; speak thou, and be it done ! 
My overshadowing Spirit and might with thee 
I send along; ride forth, and bid the Deep 
Within appointed bounds be heaven and earth. 
Boundless the Deep, because I am who fill 
Infinitude; nor vacuous the space. 
Though I, uncircumscribed, myself retire. 
And put not forth my goodness, which is free 
To act or not. Necessity and Chance 
Approach not me, , and what I will is Fate.'' 

" So spake the Almighty ; and to what he spake 
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect. 
Immediate are the acts of God, more swift 
Than time or motion, but to human ears 
Cannot without process' of speech be told,'' 
So told as earthly notion can receive. 
Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heaven 
When such was heard declared the Almighty's will. 
Glory they sung to the Most High, goodwill 
To future men, and in their dwellings peace — 
Glory to Him whose just avenging ire 



BOOK VII PARADISE LOST 235 

Had driven out the ungodly from his sight 
And the habitations of the just; to Him 
Glory and praise whose wisdom had ordained 
Good out of evil to create — instead 
Of Spirits malign, a better Race to bring 
Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse 
His good to worlds and ages infinite. 

'* So sang the Hierarchies. Meanwhile the Son 
On his great expedition now appeared, 
Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crowned 
Of majesty divine, sapience and love 
Immense; and all his Father in him shon. 
About his chariot numberless were poured 
Cherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones, 
And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots winged 
From the armoury of God, where stand of old 
Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged 
Against a solemn day, harnessed at hand. 
Celestial equipage ; and now came forth 
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit lived, 
Attendant on their Lord. Heaven opened wide 
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound 
On golden hinges moving, to let forth 
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word 
And Spirit coming to create new worlds. 
On Heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore 
They viewed the vast immeasurable Abyss, 
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild. 
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds 
And surging waves, as mountains to assault 
Heaven's highth, and with the centre mix the pole. 

" 'Silence, ye troubled waves, and, thou Deep, peace ! ' 
Said then the omnific Word : ' your discord end ! ' 
Nor stayed ; but, on the wings of Cherubim 
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode 
Far into Chaos and the World unborn ; 
For Chaos heard his voice. Him all his train 
Followed in bright procession, to behold 
Creation, and the wonders of his might. 
Then stayed the fervid wheels, and in his hand 



236 JOHN MILTON BOOK vii 

He took the golden compasses, prepared 
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe 
This Universe, and all created things. 
One foot he centred, and the other turned 
Round through the vast profundity obscure. 
And said, 'Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds; 
This be thy just circumference, O World! ' 
Thus God the Heaven created, thus the Earth, 
Matter unformed and void. Darkness profound 
Covered the Abyss ; but on the watery calm ^ 

His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread, ^^ 
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth, ,^^^^ 

Throughout the fluid mass, but downward purged 
The black, tartareous, cold, i^ifernal dregs. 
Adverse to life ; then founded, then conglobed. 
Like things to like, the rest to several place 
Disparted, and between spun out the Air, 
And Earth, self-balanced, on her centre hung. 

" 'Let there be Light ! ' said God ; and forthwith Light 
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure, 
Sprung from the Deep, and from her native East 
To journey through the aery gloom began. 
Sphered in a radiant cloud — for yet the Sun 
Was not ; she in a cloudy tabernacle 
Sojourned the while. God saw the Light was good; 
And light from darkness by the hemisphere 
Divided : Light the Day, and Darkness Night, 
He named. Thus was the first Day even and morn; 
Nor passed uncelebrated, nor unsung 
By the celestial quires, when orient light 
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld, 
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth. With joy and shout 
The hollow universal orb they filled. 
And touched their golden harps, and hymning praised 
God and his works ; Creator him they sung, 
Both when first evening was, and when first morn. 

" Again God said, ' Let there be firmament 
Amid the waters, and let it divide 
The waters from the waters ! ' And God made 
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure, 



BOOK VII PARADISE LOST 237 

Transparent, elemental air, dilTusecl 

In circuit to the uttermost convex 

Of this great round — partition firm and sure, 

The waters underneath from those above 

Dividing; for as Earth, so he the World 

Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide 

Crystallin ocean, and the loud misrule 

Of Chaos far removed, lest fierce extremes 

Contiguous might distemper the whole frame: 

And Heaven he named the Firmament. So even 

And morning chorus sung the second Day. 

" The Earth was formed, but, in the womb as yet 
Of waters, embryon immature, involved. 
Appeared not ; over all the face of Earth 
Main ocean flowed, not idle, but, with warm 
Prolific humour softening all her globe. 
Fermented the great mother to conceive, 
Satiate with genial moisture; when God said, 
* Be gathered now, ye waters under heaven, 
Into one place, and let dry land appear ! ' 
Immediately the mountains huge appear 
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave 
Into the clouds ; their tops ascend the sky. 
So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low 
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep, 
Capacious bed of waters. Thither they 
Hasted with glad precipitance, uprowled, 
As drops on dust conglobing, from the dry : 
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct. 
For haste ; such flight the great command impressed 
On the swift floods. As armies at the call 
Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard) 
Troop to their standard, so the watery throng. 
Wave rowling after wave, where way they foimd — 
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through ])lain, 
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill; 
But they, or underground, or circuit wide 
With serpent error wandering, found their way, 
And on the washy ooze deep channels wore : 
Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry, 



238 JOHN MILTON DOOK VII 

All but within those banks where rivers now 

Streani, and perpetual draw their humid train. 

The dry land Earth, and the great receptacle 

Of congregated waters he called Seas; 

And saw that it was good, and said, ' Let the Earth 

Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed. 

And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind, 

Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth ! ' 

He scarce had said when the bare Earth, till then 

Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorned. 

Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad 

Her universal face with pleasant green ; 

Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flowered, 

Opening their various colours, and made gay 

Her bosom, smelling sweet ; and, these scarce blown. 

Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept 

The smelling gourd, up stood the corny reed 

Imbattled in her field : add the humble shrub, 

And bush with frizzled hair implicit : last 

Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread 

Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed 

Their blossoms. With high woods the hills were crowned, 

With tufts the valleys and each fountain-side, 

With borders long the rivers, that Earth now 

Seemed like to Heaven, a seat where gods might dwell, 

Or wander with delight, and love to haunt 

Her sacred shades; though God had yet not rained 

Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground 

None was, but from the Earth a dewy mist 

Went up and watered all the ground, and each 

Plant of the field, which ere it was in the Earth 

God made, and every herb before it grew 

On the green stem. God saw that it was good ; 

So even and morn recorded the third Day. 

" Again the Almighty spake, ' Let there be Lights 
High in the expanse of Heaven, to divide 
The Day from Night ; and let them be for signs. 
For seasons, and for days, and circling years; 
And let them be for lights, as I ordain 
Their office in the firmament of heaven. 



BOOK VII PARADISE LOST 239 

To give light on the Earth ! ' and it was so. 

And God made two great Lights, great for their use 

To Man, the greater to have rule by day. 

The less by night, alterne ; and made the Stars, 

And set them in the firmament of heaven 

To illuminate the Earth, and rule the day 

In their vicissitude, and rule the night. 

And light from darkness to divide. God saw, 

Surveying his great work, that it was good : 

For, of celestial bodies, first the Sun 

A mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first, 

Though of ethereal mould ; then formed the Moon 

Globose, and every magnitude f)f Stars, 

And sowed with stars the heaven thick as a field. 

Of light by far the greater part he took, 

Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed 

In the Sun's orb, made porous to receive 

And drink the liquid light, firm to retain 

Her gathered beams, great palace now of Light. 

-*" Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light, 
And hence the morning planet gilds her horns; 
By tincture or reflection they augment 
Their small peculiar, though, from human sight 
So far remote, with diminution seen. 

/'' First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, 
Regent of day, and all the horizon round 
Invested with bright rays, jocond to run 
His longitude through heaven's high-rf)ad ; the grey 
Dawn, and the Pleiades, before him danced, 
Shedding sweet influence. Less bright the Moon, 
But opposite in levelled west, was set. 
His mirror, with full face borrowing her light 
From him ; for other light she needed none 
In that aspect, and still that distance keeps 
Till night ; then in the east her turn she shines, 
Revolved on heaven's great axle, and her reign 
With thousand lesser lights dividual holds. 
With thousand thousand stars, that then appeared 
Spangling the hemisphere. Then first adorned 



240 JOHN MILTON hook vm 

Willi hcT liriy^hl luminaries, that set and rose, 

(;i;i(l cvt'iiinf; and j^Iad morn crowned the fourth Day 

" And God said. ' \x\ llie waters generate 
Reptile with spawn abundant, living soul; 
And let l""o\vl lly rd)ove the earth, with wings 
])is])layeil on the open firmament of heaven!' 
y\n<l (lod created the great Whales, and each 
Soul living, each that crept, which plenleously 
'Hie waters generated by their kinds, 
And every hiril of wing after his kind, 
And saw llial it was good, aiul blessed them, saying, 
' \\v frnilfiil, limit iply, and, in the seas, 
And lakes, and running streams, the waters fill ; 
And let the fowl be multiplied on the eartli!' 
b'ortlnvilh the sounds and seas, each creek and bay. 
With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals 
Of fish that, with their fins and shining scales, 
(Hide under the green wave in sculls that oft 
H;ink the mid-sea. Tart, single or with mate, 
(Ira/.e the se;i-weed, their pasttnw and through groves 
Oi cor.al stray, or, sporting with cpiick glance, 
.Shew to the sun their waved coats dropt with gold, 
Or, in their ])early shells at ease, attend 
Moist nutriment, or imder rocks their food 
In jointed ;irmour watch; on smooth the seal 
And bended dolphins play; part huge of bulk. 
Wallowing unwieUly, enormous in their gait, 
Tempest the ocean. There Levi;ilh;in, 
llugest of living creatures, on the ileep 
Stretched like a promontory, sleeps or swims, 
And seems a moving land, and at his gills 
Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out, a sea. 
Meanwhile the tepid caves, and fens, and .shores. 
Their brood as numerous hatch from the egg, th;it soon, 
Bursting with kindly rui)ture, fcn-th disclo.scd 
Their callow young; but feathered soon and (ledge 
They summed their pens, and, .soaring the air stililimc. 
With clang despised the ground, under a cloud 
Tn ])rospect. There the e.igle and [he stork 
On cliffs and ceilar-tops their eyries build. 



IJOOK vif PARADISE LOST 241 

llart loosely win.c^ the Rep;ion ; i)art, more wise, 

In common, ranged in figure, wedge their way, 

Intelligent of seasons, and set forth 

Their aerie caravan, high over seas 

Flying, and over lands, with mutual wing 

Easing their flight: so steers the ])rudent cranr 

Her annual voyage, borne on winds: the air 

Floats as they jiass, fanned with uiniumliered plumes. 

From branch to branch the smaller birds with song 

Solaced the woods, and spread their ])ainted wings, 

Till even ; nor then the solemn nightingal 

Ceased warbling, but all night timed her soft lays. 

Others, on silver lakes and rivers, bathed 

Their downy breast / the swan, with arched neck 

P)etween her white wings mantling |)roudly, rows 

Her state with oary feet;'yet oft they (|uit 

The dank, and, rising on stiff pennons, tower 

'I'he mid aerial sky. Others on ground 

Walked firm — the crested cock, whose clarion sounds 

The silent hours, and the other, whose gay train 

Adorns him, coloured with llie florid hue 

Of rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thus 

With Fish rc])lenished, and the air with l-'owl, 

Evening and morning soleiimized the fifth Day. 

" The sixth, and of Creation last, arose 
With evening har])s and matin ; when God said, 
' Let the Earth bring forth soul living in her kind. 
Cattle, and creeping things, and beast of the earth, 
Each in their kind ! ' The Earth obeyed, and, straight 
Opening her fertile womb, teemed at a birth 
Innumcrous living creatures, jjcrfet forms, 
Limbed and full-grown. Out of the ground up rose, 
As from his lair, the wild beast, where he wons 
In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den — 
Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walked; 
The cattle in the fields and meadows green : 
Those rare and solitary, these in flocks 
Pasturing at once and in broad herds, npspnmg 
The grassy clods now calved ; now half appeared 
The tawny Lion, pawing to get free 



242 JOHN MILTON hook vii 

His hinder parts — then springs, as hrokc from hontls, 

And rampant shakes his brinded nianc ; the Ounce, 

The Libbard, and the Tiger, as the Mole 

Rising, the crumbled earth above them threw 

In hillocks; the swift Stag from underground 

]U)re ui) his branching head; scarce from his mould 

Behemoth, biggest born of earth, upheaved 

llis vastness; lleeced the Hocks and bleating rose, 

As plants ; ambiguous between sea and land, 

The River-horse and scaly Crocodile. 

At once came forth whatever creeps the ground, 

Insect or worm. Those waved their limber fans 

For wings, and smallest lineaments exact 

In all the liveries decked of sunnner's pride, 

With spots of gold and purple, azure and green; 

These as a line their long dimension drew. 

Streaking the ground with sinu(nis trace: not all 

Minims of nature; some of serpent kind, 

Wondrous in length and corpulence, involved 

Their snaky folds, and added wings. First crept 

The parsimonious Emmet, provident 

Of future, in small room large heart enclosed — 

I'attern of just ef|uality perh.nps 

Hereafter — joined in her i)opular tribes 

Of c(»nunonaUy. Swarming next ai)peared 

The female Bee, that feeds her husi)aud drone 

Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells 

With honey stored. The rest are numberless, 

And thou their natures know'st, and gav'st them names 

Needless to thee repeated ; nor unknown 

The Serpent, subtlest beast of all the field, 

Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes 

And hairy mane terrific, though to thee 

Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. 

" Now Heaven in all her glory shon. and rowled 
Her motions, as the great P^irst Mover's hand 
First wheeled their course; Earth, in her rich attire 
Consummate, lovely smiled; Air, Water, Earth, 
By fowl, fish, beast, was llown, was swum, was walked 
Frequent ; and of the sixth Day yet remained. 



BOOK vrr PARADISE LOST 243 

'J'hcre wanted yet the master-work, the end 

Of all yet done — a creature who, not prone 

And brute as other creatures, but endued 

With sanctity of reason, ini|;lit erect 

11 is stature, and, upright with front serene 

Govern the rest, self-knowing, and from thence 

Magnanimous to correspond with Heaven, 

But grateful to acknowledge whence his good 

Descends; thither with heart, and voice, and eyes 

Directed in devotion, to adore 

And worship God Suj)remc, who made him chief 

Of all his works. Therefore the Omnipotent 

Eternal I<*ather (for where is not He 

Present?) thus to his Son audibly spake: — 

' Let us now make Man in our image, Man 

In our similitude, and let them rule 

Over the fish and fowl of sea and air. 

Beast of the field, and over all the earth, 

And every creeping thing that creeps the ground!' 

This said, he formed thee, Adam, thee, O Man, 

Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breathed 

The breath of life ; in his own image he 

Created thee, in the image of God 

Express, and thou becam'st a living Sr)ul. 

Male he created thee, but thy consort' 

Female, for race; then blessed mankind, and said, 

'Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the Earth; 

Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold 

Over fish of the sea and fowl of the air. 

And every living thing that moves on the Earth! * 

Wherever thus created — for no place 

Is yet distinct by name — thence, as thou know'st, 

He brought thee into this delicious grove. 

This Garden, i)lanted with the trees of God, 

Delectable l)oth to behold and taste, 

And freely all their pleasant fruit for food 

Gave thee. All sorts arc here that all the earth yields, 

Variety without end ; but of the tree 

Which tasted works knowlcflge of good and evil 

Thou niay'st not; in the day thou eat'st, thou diest. 



V- 



241 JOHN MILTON book vil 

Death is the pcnaUy imposed ; beware, 
And govern well thy appetite, lest Sin 
Surprise thee, and her black attendant. Death. 
^ " Here finished He, and all that he had made 
Viewed, and behold ! all was entirely good. 
So even and morn accomplished the sixth Day; 
Yet not till the Creator, from his work 
Desisting, though unwearied, up returned. 
Up to the Heaven of Heavens, his high abode. 
Thence to behold this new-created World, 
The addition of his empire, how it shewed 
In prospect from his Throne, how good, how fair, 
Answering his great Idea. Up he rode, 
Followed with acclamation, and the sound 
Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned 
Angelic harmonies. The Earth, the Air 
Resounded (thou remember'st, for thou heard'st), 
The heavens and all the constellations rung, 
The planets in their stations listening stood, 
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. 
' Open, ye everlasting gates ! ' they sung ; 
' Open, ye Heavens, your living doors ! let in 
The great Creator, from his work returned 
Magnificent, his six days' work, a World ! 
Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deign 
To visit oft the dwellings of just men 
Delighted, and with frequent intercourse 
Thither will send his winged messengers 
On errands of supernal grace.' So sung 
The glorious train ascending. He through Heaven, 
That opened wide her blazing portals, led 
To God's eternal house direct the way — 
A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold. 
And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear 
Seen in the Galaxy, that milky way 
Which nightly as a circling zone thou seert 
Powdered with stars. And now on Earth the seventh 
Evening arose in Eden — for the sun 
Was set, and twilight from the east came on. 
Forerunning night — when at the holy mount 



BOOK VII PARADISE LOST 245 

Of Heaven's high-seated top, the imperial throne 

Of Godhead, fixed for ever firm and sure, 

The Filial Power arrived, and sat him down 

With his great Father ; for He also went 

Invisible, yet stayed (such privilege 

Hath Omnipresence) and the work ordained, 

Author and end of all things, and from work 

Now resting, blessed and hallowed the seventh Day, 

As resting on that day from all his work; 

But not in silence holy kept : the harp 

Had work, and rested not; the solemn pipe 

And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop. 

All sounds on fret by string or golden wire, 

Tempered soft tunings, intermixed with voice 

Choral or unison; of incense clouds. 

Fuming from golden censers, hid the Mount. 

Creation and the Six Days' acts they sung : — 

* Great are thy works, Jehovah ! infinite 

Thy power! what thought can measure thee, or tongue 

Relate thee — greater now in thy return 

Than from the Giant-angels? Thee that day 

Thy thunders magnified; but to create 

Is greater than created to destroy. 

Who can impair thee, mighty King, or bound 

Thy empire? Easily the proud attempt 

Of Spirits apostat, and their counsels vain. 

Thou hast repelled, while impiously they thought 

Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw 

The number of thy worshipers. Who seeks 

To lessen thee, against his purpose, serves 

To manifest the more thy might; his evil 

Thou usest, and from thence crcat'st more good. 

Witness this new-made World, another Heaven 

From Heaven-gate not far, founded in view 

On the clear hyalin, the glassy sea; 

Of amplitude almost immense, with stars 

Numerous, and every star perhaps a world 

Of destined habitation — but thou know'st 

Their sea.sons ; among these the seat of men. 

Earth, with her nether ocean circumfused, 

P HCIV 



246 JOHN MILTON BOOK VIII 

Their pleasant dwelling-place. Thrice happy men, 
And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanced. 
Created in his image, there to dwell 
And worship him, and in reward to rule 
Over his works, on earth, in sea, or air, 
And multiply a race of worshipers 
Holy and just ! thnce happy, if they know 
Their happiness, and persevere upright ! ' 
" So sung they, and the Empyrean rung 
With halleluiahs. Thus was Sabbath kept. 
And thy request think now fulfilled that asked 
How first this World and face of things began. 
And what before thy memory was done 
From the beginning, that posterity, 
Informed by thee, might know. If else thou seek'st 
Aught, not surpassing human measure, say." 



THE EIGHTH BOOK 

TnK Argument. — Adam inquires concerning celestial motions; is 
doubtfully answered, and exhorted to search rather things more 
worthy of knowledge. Adam assents, and, still desirous to detain 
Raphael, relates to him what he remembered since his own creation 
— his placing in Paradise; his talk with God concerning solitude and 
fit society ; his first meeting and nuptials with Eve. His discourse 
with the Angel thereupon ; who, after admonitions repeated, departs. 

The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear 
So charming left his voice that he a while 
Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear; 
Then, as new-waked, thus gratefully replied : — 
" What thanks sufficient, or what recompense 
Equal, have I to render thee, divine 
Historian, who thus largely hast allayed 
The thirst I had of knowledge, and voutsafed 
This friendly condescension to relate 
Things else by me unsearchable — now heard 
With wonder, but delight, and, as is due, 
With glory attribtited to the high 



DOOK VIII PARADISE LOST 247 

Creator? Something yet of doubt remains, 

Which only thy sohition can resolve. 

When I behold this goodly frame, this World, 

Of Heaven and Earth consisting, and compute 

Their magnitudes — this Earth, a spot, a grain, 

An atom, with the Firmament compared 

And all her numbered stars, that seem to row! 

(%)aces incomprehensible^ (for such 

Their distance argues, and their swift return 

Diurnal) merely to officiate light 

Round this opacous Earth, this punctual spot, 

One day and night, in all their vast survey 

Useless besides — reasoning, I oft admire 

How Nature, wise and frugal, could commit 

Such disproportions, with superlluous hand 

So many nobler bodies to create. 

Greater so manifold, to this one use, 

For aught appears, and on their Orbs impose 

Such restless revolution day by day 

Repeated, while the sedentary Earth, 

That better might with far less compass move, 

Served by more noble than herself, attains 

Her end without least motion, and receives, 

As tribute, such a sumless journey brought 

Of incorporeal speed her warmth and light: 

Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails." 

So spake our Sire, and by his countenance seemed 
Entering on studious thoughts abstruse; which Eve 
Perceiving, where, she sat retired in sight. 
With lowliness majestic from her seat, 
And grace that won who saw to wish her stay. 
Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers, 
To visit how they prospered, bud and bloom, 
Her nursery ; they at her coming sprung, 
And, touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew. 
Yet went she not as not with such discourse 
Delighted, or not capable her ear 
Of what was high. Such pleasure she reserved, 
Adam relating, she sole anditress; 
Ilcr husband the relater she preferred 



248 JOHN MILTON book viii 

Before the Angel, and of him to ask 

Chose rather ; he, she knew would intermix 

Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute 

With conjugal caresses: from his lip 

Not words alone pleased her. Oh, when meet now 

Such pairs, in love and mutual honour joined? 

With goddess-like demeanour forth she went. 

Not unattended; for on her as Queen 

A pomp of winning Graces waited still, 

And from ahout her shot darts of desire 

Into all eyes, to wish her still in sight. 

And Raphael now to Adam's doubt proposed 

Benevolent and facile thus replied : — 

" To ask or search I blame thee not ; for Heaven 
Is as the Book of God before thee set. 
Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn 
His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years. 
This to attain, whether Heaven move or Earth 
Imports not, if thou reckon right ; the rest 
From Man or Angel the great Architect 
Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge 
His secrets, to be scanned by them who ought 
Rather admire. Or, if they list to try 
Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heavens 
Hath left to their disputes — perhaps to move 
His laughter at their quaint opinions wide 
Hereafter, when they come to model Heaven, 
And calculate the stars ; how they will wield 
The mighty frame; how build, unbuild, contrive 
To save appearances ; how gird the Sphere 
With Centric and Eccentric scribbled o'er, 
Cycle and Epicycle, orb in orb. 
Already by thy reasoning this I guess, 
Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest 
That bodies bright and greater should not serve 
The less not bright, nor Heaven such journeys run, 
Earth sitting still, when she alone receives 
The benefit. \Q3nsider, first, that great 
Or bright infers not excellency The Earth, 
Though, in comparison of Heaven, so small. 



BOOK vin PARADISE LOST 249 

Nor glistering-, may of solid good contain 

More plenty than the Sun that barren shines, 

Whose virtue on itself works no effect, 

But in the fruitful Earth; there first received. 

His beams, unactive else, their vigour find. 

Yet not to Earth are those bright luminaries 

Officious, but to thee, Earth's habitant. 

And, for the Heaven's wide circuit, let it speak 

The Maker's high magnificence, who built 

So spacious, and his line stretched out so far, 

That Man may know he dwells not in his own — 

An edifice too large for him to fill. 

Lodged in a small partition, and the rest 

Ordained for uses to his Lord best known. 

The swiftness of those Circles at'tribute. 

Though numberless, to his Omnipotence, 

That to corporeal substances could add 

Speed almost spiritual. Me thou think'st not slow, 

Who since the morning-hour set out from Heaven 

Where God resides, and ere mid-day arrived 

In Eden — distance inexpressible 

By numbers that have name. But this I urge, 

Admitting motion in the Heavens, to shew 

Invalid that which thee to doubt it moved; 

Not that I so affirm, though so it seem 

To thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth. 

God, to remove his ways from human sense. 

Placed Heaven from Earth so far, that earthly sight, 

If it presume, might err in things too high. 

And no advantage gain. What if the Sun 

Be centre to the World, and other Stars, 

By his attractive virtue and their own 

Incited, dance about him various rounds? 

Their wandering course, now high, now low, then 

hid. 
Progressive, retrograde, or standing still. 
In six thou seest; and what if, seventh to these 
The planet Earth, so steadfast though she seem, 
Insensibly three different motions move? 
Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe. 



250 JOHN MILTON BOOK Vlli 

Moved contrary with thwart obHquities, 
Or save the Sun his labour, and that swift 
Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed, 
Invisible else above all stars, the wheel 
Of Day and Night; which needs not thy belief. 
If Earth, industrious of herself, fetch Day, 
Travelling east, and with her part averse 
From the Sun's beam meet Night, her other part 
Still luminous by his ray. What if that light, 
Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air, 
To the terrestrial Moon to be as a star. 
Enlightening her by day, as she by night 
This Earth — reciprocal, if land be there, 
Fields and inhabitants? Her spots thou seest 
As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce 
Fruits in her softened soil, for some to eat 
Allotted there; and other Suns, perhaps. 
With their attendant Moons, thou wilt descry. 
Communicating male and female light — 
Which two great sexes animate the World, 
Stored in each Orb perhaps with some that live. 
For such vast room in Nature unpossessed 
By living soul, desert and desolate. 
Only to shine, yet scarce to con'tribute 
Each Orb a glimpse of light, conveyed so far 
Down to this habitable, which returns 
Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. 
But whether thus these things, or whether not — 
Whether the Sun, predominant in heaven. 
Rise on the Earth, or Earth rise on the Sun; 
He from the east his flaming road begin. 
Or she from west her silent course advance 
With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps 
On her soft axle, while she paces even. 
And bears thee soft with the smooth air along — 
Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid: 
Leave them to God above;/ him serve and fear. 
^ Of other creatures as him pleases best. 
Wherever placed, let him dispose ; joy thou 
In what he gives to thee, this Paradise 



BOOK VIII PARADISE LOST 251 

And thy fair Eve; Heaven is for thee too high 
To know what passes there. Be lowly wise; 
Think only what concerns thee and thy being; 
Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there 
Live, in what state, condition, or degree — 
V- Contented that thus far hath been revealed 
Not of Earth only, but of highest Heaven." -' 

To whom thus Adam, cleared of doubt, replied : — 
" How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure 
Intelligence of Heaven, Angel serene, 
And, freed from intricacies, taught to live 
The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts 
To interrupt the sweet of life, from which 
God hath bid dwell far ofif all anxious cares, 
And not molest us, unless we ourselves 
Seek them with wandering thoughts, and notions 

vain ! 
But apt the mind or fancy is to rove 
Unchecked ; and of her roving is no end, 
Till, warned, or by- experience taught, she learn 
That not to know at large of things remote 
From use, obscure and subtle, but to know 
That which before us lies in daily life, 
Is the prime wisdom : what is more is fume. 
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence. 
And renders us in things that most concern 
Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek. 
Therefore from this high pitch let us descend 
A lower flight, and speak of things at hand 
Useful ; whence, haply, mention may arise 
Of something not unseasonable to ask. 
By sufferance, and thy wonted favour, deigned. 
Thee I have heard relating what was done 
Ere my remembrance ; now hear me relate 
My story, which, perhaps, thou hast not heard. 
And day is yet not spent ; till then thou seest 
How subtly to detain thee I devise. 
Inviting thee to hear while I relate — 
Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply. 
For, while I sit with thee, P seem in Heaven ; 



252 JOHN MILTON book viu 

And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear 
Than fruits of pahn-tree, plcasaiitest to thirst 
And hunger both, from labour, at the hour 
Oi sweet repast. They satiate, and soon fill, 
Though pleasant ; but thy words, with grace divine 
Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety." 
To whom thus Raphael answered, heavenly 
meek : — 
'* Nor are thy lips ungrateful. Sire of Men, 
Nor tongue ineloqucnt ; for God on thee 
Abundantly his gifts hath also poured. 
Inward and outward both, his image fair: 
Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and grace 
Attends thee, and each word, each motion, forms. 
Xor less think we in Heaven of thee on Earth 
Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire 
Gladly into the ways of God witli Man; 
For God. we see, hath honoured thee, and set 
On Man his equal love. Say therefore on ; 
For I that day was absent, as befell. 
Bound on a voyage uncouth and ol^scure. 
Far on excursion toward the gates of Ilcll, 
Squared in full legion (such command we had), 
To see that none thence issue<l forth ft spy 
Or enemy, while God was in his work. 
Lest he, incensed at such eruption bold. 
Destruction with Creation might liave mixed. 
Not that they durst without his leave attempt; 
But us he sends upon his high behests 
For state, as sovran King, and to inure 
Our jirompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut, 
The dismal gates, and I^arricadocd strong. 
But. long ere our approaching, heard within 
Noise, other than the sound of dance or song — 
Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. 
Glad we returned up to the coasts of Light 
Ere Sabbath-evening: so we had in charge. 
But thy relation now : for I attend. 
Pleased with thy words no less than thou with 
mine.'' 



HOOK viil PAKADISK LOST 253 

So spake the godlike Power, and thus our Sire: — 
" For Man to tcU how human life hegan 
Is hard; for who himself hegiiining knew? 
Desire with thee still longer to converse 
Induced me. As new-waked from soundest sleep, 
Soft on the flowery herb I founcl me laid, 
In halnry sweat, which with his beams the Sun 
Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed. 
Straight toward Heaven my wondering eyes I turned, 
And gazed a while the ample sky, till, raised 
By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung. 
As thitherward endeavoring, and upright 
Stood on my feet. About me round I saw 
Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains. 
And licjuid lapse of niurniuring streams; by these, 
Creatures that lived and moved, and walked or flew, 
Birds on the branches warbling: all things smiled; 
With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflowcd. 
Myself I then perused, and limb by limb 
Surveyed, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran 
With supple joints, as lively vigour led; 
But who I was, or where, or from what cause. 
Knew not. To speak I tried, and forthwith spake; 
My tongue obeyed, and readily could name 
Whate'er I saw. 'Thou Sun,' said I, ' fair light. 
And thou enlightened Earth, so fresh and gay. 
Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, 
And ye that live and move., fair creatures, tell. 
Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here ! 
Not of myself; by some great Maker then. 
In goodness and in i)owcr prae-cminent. 
Tell me. how may I know him, how adore. 
From whom I have that thus I move and live. 
And feel that I am happier than I know ! ' 
While thus I called, and strayed I knew not whither. 
From where I first drew air, and fir.st beheld 
This happy light, when answer none returned, 
On a green shady bank, jjrofuse of flowers, 
Pensive I sat me down, 'ibere gentle sleep 
First found me, and with soft oppression seized 



254 JOHN MILTON BOOK VIII 

My drowsed sense, untroubled, though I thought 

I then was passing to my former state 

Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve : 

When suddenly stood at my head a Dream, 

Whose inward apparition gently moved 

My fancy to believe I yet had being, 

And lived. One came, methought, of shape divine, 

And said, 'Thy mansion wants thee, Adam; rise, 

First Man, of men innumerable ordained 

First father ! called by thee, I come thy guide 

To the Garden of bliss, thy seat prepared.' 

So saying, by the hand he took me, raised, 

And oyer fields and waters, as in air 

Smooth sliding without step, last led me up 

A woody mountain, whose high top was plain, 

A circuit wide, enclosed, with goodliest trees 

Planted, with walks and bowers, that what I saw 

Of Earth before scarce pleasant seemed. Each tree 

Loaden with fairest fruit, that hung to the eye 

Tempting, stirred in me sudden appetite 

To pluck and eat ; whereat I waked, and found 

Before mine eyes all real, as the dream 

Had lively shadowed. Here had new begun 

My wandering, had not He who was my guide 

Up hither from among the trees appeared, 

Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe, 

In adoration at his feet I fell 

Submiss. He reared me, and, ' Whom thou sought'st 

I am,' 
Said mildly, ' Author of all this thou seest 
Above, or roimd about thee, or beneath. 
This Paradise I give thee ; count it thine 
To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat. 
Of every tree that in the Garden grows 
Eat freely with glad heart ; fear here no dearth. 
But of the tree whose operation brings 
Knowledge of Good and 111, which I have set, 
The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith. 
Amid the garden by the Tree of Life — 
Remember what I warn thee — shun to taste. 



BOOK vill PARADISE LOST 255 

And shun the bitter consequence : for know, 
The day thou eat'st thereof, my sole command 
Transgressed, inevitably thou shalt die, 
From that day mortal, and this happy state 
Shalt lose, expelled from hence into a world 
Of woe and sorrow.' Sternly he pronounced 
The rigid interdiction, which resounds 
Yet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choice 
Not to incur ; but soon his clear aspect' 
Returned, and gracious purpose thus renewed : — 
' Not only these fair bounds, but all the Earth 
To thee and to thy race I give ; as lords 
Possess it, and all things that therein live. 
Or live in sea or air, beast, fish, and fowl. 
In sign whereof, each bird and beast behold 
After their kinds ; I bring them to receive 
From thee their names, and pay thee fealty 
With low subjection. Understand the same 
Of fish within their watery residence. 
Not hither summoned, since they cannot change 
Their element to draw the thinner air.' 
As thus he spake, each bird and beast behold 
Approaching two and two — these cowering low 
With blandishment; each bird stooped on his wing. 
I named them as they passed, and understood 
Their nature ; with such knowledge God endued 
My sudden apprehension. But in these 
I found not what methought I wanted still. 
And to the Heavenly Vision thus presumed : — 
" * O, by what name — for Thou above all these, 
Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher, 
Surpassest far my naming — how may I 
Adore thee. Author of this Universe, 
And all this good to Man, for whose well-being 
So amply, and with hands so liberal, 
Thou hast provided all things ? But with me 
I see not who partakes. In solitude 
What happiness? who can enjoy alone. 
Or, all enjoying, what contentment find?' 
Thus I, presumptuous; and the Vision bright, 



256 JOHN MILTON hook viii 

As with a sniilo more brightened, thus replied: — 
"'What call'st thou solitude? Is not the Earth 

With various living creatures, and the Air, 

Replenished, and all these at thy command 

To come and play before thee? Know'st thou not 

Their language and their ways? Thoy also know. 

And reason not contemptibly ; with these 

Find pastime, and bear rule ; thy realm is large.' 

So spake the Universal Lord and seemed 

So ordering. I, with leave of speech implored, 

And humble deprecation, thus replied: — 

" ■ Let not my words otTend thee. Heavenly Power ; 

My Maker, be propitious while T speak. 

Hast thou not made me here thy substitute, 

And these interior far beneath me set? 

Among unequals what society 

Can sort, what harmony or true delight? 

Which must be mutual, in proportion due 

Given and received; but, in disparity. 

The one intense, the other still remiss. 

Cannot well suit with either, but soon prove 

Tedious alike. Of fellowship T speak 

Such as I seek, fit to participate 

All rational delight, wherein the brute 

Cannot be human consort. They rejoice 

Each with their kind, lion with lioness; 

So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined: 

Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl. 

So well converse, nor with the ox the ape ; 

Worse, then, can man with beast, and least of all.' 
" Whereto the Almighty answered, not displeasttl : — 

' A nice and subtle happiness. 1 see. 

Thou to thyself proposest. in the choice 

Of thy associates, Adam, and wilt taste 

No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary. 

W^hat think'st thou, then, of Me. and this my state? 

Seem I to thee sufficiently possessed 

Of happiness, or not, who am alone 

From all eternity? for none I know 

Second to me or like, equal much less. 



HOOK VIII PAIIADLSK [,OST 2S7 

How have I, llu'ii, with wlioiii (o Iiold converse, 
Save M'ith (ho crealiiros which I made, and those 
To nic inferior infinite descents 
Beneatli what other crealnres are to thee?' 

" He ceased. I lowly answered: — ' To attain 
The hiijhth aiul depth of thy eternal ways 
All himiaii thoui^lits come short, Supreme of Things I 
Thou ill Ihysell art perfet, and in Thee 
Is no delicienee found. Not so is Man, 
But in degree — the cause of his desire 
By conversation with his like to help 
Or solace his defects. No neeil that thou 
Should'st ])roi)aj;ate, already infinite. 
And thronj;h all mnnhers al>si)lnte, thou};h One; 
But Man hy inniiher is to manifest 
His sinj^Ie imperfection, and hej^et 
Like of his like, his imaj^e multiplied, 
In unity defective; which reipiires 
Collateral love, and dearest amity. 
Thou, in thy secrecy althougli alone, 
Best with thyself accompanied, seek'sl not 
Social communication — yet, so pleased, 
C aiisl raise thy creature to what hij;hth thou wilt 
Of union or conununion, deified; 
I, i)y conversinjj, cannot these erect 
From prone, nor in their ways complacence find.' 
Thus 1 emholdened spake, and freedom used 
I'ennissivc, and acceptance found; which {gained 
This answer from the grations Voice Divine :— 

" * Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleased. 
And find thee knowin*,' not of heasts alone. 
Which thou hast ri,i,duly named, hut of thyself — 
ICxpressiiij; well ihe spirit within thee free. 
My image, not inijiarted to the hrnte; 
Whose fellowship, ther«fore, unmeet for thee, 
tlood Reason was thou freely shouldst dislike. 
And he so minded still. 1, ere thou spak'st, 
Knew it not good for Man to he alone. 
And no such company as then thou savv'st 
Intended IIk'c — for trial only brought, 



258 



JOHN MIi;it)N 



HOOK Mil 



To sec Iitnv tluui lonlilsl jtuli;i" of lit and iiirrt. 
What tio\t I hriiij;' shall ploaso lluo, he assiiiiil, 
'I'liy likiMU'ss. (liy lit help, thy other sell". 
Illy wish exactly to thy heart's ilesiro.' 

lie eiuleil, or I heard no more; for lunv 
My earthly, hy his heaveiilv overpowernl, 
W'hieh it hail Ions;' stood under, straiiieil to the liii;Iith 
111 that eelestial eolloiiiiy snhliiue. 
As with an ohjeet that exeels the sense, 
Oazzloil anil spent, sunk down, and souljIu rep.iir 
Of sleep, wliieh instantly fell on me. ealled 
Uy Nature as in aiil, and closed mine eyes. 
Mine eyes he elosetl. but open left the eell 
Of fancy, my internal sij;hl : hy whieli, 
Ahstraet as in a trance, nietIion_i;lU I saw. 
Though slei'piiij.;, where 1 lay, ami saw the Sli.ipe 
.*~^till u'lorious hefore whom aw.d^e I stood; 
\\ ho. su>t>pin;;, opened my left side, and look 
Imoui tlience a rib, with cordial spirits w.uiii. 
And life hlooil streaniinj; fresh; wide was the wdiiiuI, 
lUil suddenly with ilesh tilled up and healeil. 
The ril) he formed anil fashioned with his hands; 
■Lhuler his formins.; hands a creature i^rew, 
Man like, hut ditTerent se\, so Knely fair 
That what seemcil fair in .ill the world seemed now^ 
Mean, or in her summed up, in her contained 
.\i\d in her looks, which from tluil lime infused 
Sweetness into niv he. lit untelt helore. 
And into all thini^s from her air iiisi)ired 
The spirit of love :nul amorous deli_i;lit. 
She ilis.ippeared. and left me ilark ; I waked 
Vo liiul her, or for ever to deplore 
ller Kiss, and i«tlier pleasures all abjure : 
When, i>ul id' hope, behold her not far olT, 
Such as 1 saw her in my dream, adorned 
With what all Marlh or llea\en could bestmv 
To make her amiable, t^ii she came, 
Led by her lle;iv<?nly Maker, though unseen 
.\nd miided bv his voice, nor uninformed 
Oi nuptial sanctity and nuirriaye riles. 



UO'jK vitr PAHAIJISK LOST 2S9 

Cirace was in al) Iht steps, lioavcii in lu-r eye, 

In every }:(eslure fli^nily and love. 

J, overjoyed, could n<A forbear aloud:— 

"'This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfill"! 
'I"hy words, Creator hmmteous an<l benign, 
<' liver of all thinj^s fair — but fairest this 
Of all thy gifis! — nor enviest?; I now see 
I'fjne rjf my bfjnc, flesh of my flesh, my Self 
i'.efore me. Woman is her name, of Man 
l-'xtracted; for this cause he shall ffjrgo 
I-'ather and mother, and to his wife adhere. 
And Ihey shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.' 

" She heard me thus; and, thouj^h divinely brou;^ht, 
Yet innocence anrl virgin modesty, 
Iler virtue, and the conscience of her worth. 
That woulfl be wooed, and not unsought be won. 
Not obvious, uot f)btrusive, but retire'l, 
The most desirable — 05, to say all, 
Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought — 
Wrought in her so, that, seeing me, she turned. 
I ffWlowed her; she what was honour knew, 
y\nd with (jbsefjuious majesty aj^proved 
My |»leaflcd reason. To the nuptial bower 
I bd her blushing like the Mfjrn ; all Heaven, 
Anrl hajjpy cf^nstcllations, on that hour 
Shed their selectcst influence; the Marlh 
Cjave sign of gratulation, and each hill ; 
Joyous the birds'^ fresh gales and gentle airs 
Whisjjered it to the woods, and from their wings 
b'lung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub, 
Disporting, till the amorous bird of night 
Sung spousal, and bid haste the Mvening-star 
On his hill-to]j to light the bridal lamp. 

" 'Ihus have I UAd thee all my state, and brought 
My story to the sum of earthly bliss 
Which I enjoy, and must cfjnfess to find 
In all things else delight inrlecd, but such 
An, used or not, works in the mind no change. 
Nor vehement desire — these delicacies 
[ mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers. 



/ 



260 JOHN MTI.TON BOOK Vlll 

Walks, and the iuoUhIv oi birds: Init liorc. 
I'^ir othorwiso. transported I behold. 
Transported toneh; here passion first 1 felt, 
Cotntnotion strange, in all enjoyments else 
Superior and unmoved, here only weak 
Against the eharm of heauty's powerful glance. 
Or Nature failed in me, and left some part 
Not proof enough such ohjeet to sustain. 
Or, from my side subducting, took perhaps 
More than enough— at least on her bestowed 
Too nuioh of ornametu, in outward show 
l-llaborate, of iinvard less exact. 
For well I understand in the prime end 
Of Nature her the inferior, in the mind 
.•\nd inward faculties, which most excel ; 
In outward also her resembling less 
His image who made both, and less expressing 
The character of that dinninion given 
O'er other creatures. Yet when I approach 
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems 
And in herself complete, so well to know 
Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
Seems wisest, virtuousest. discreetest, best. 
All higher Knowledge in her presence falls 
Oegraded : Wisdom in discourse with her 
Loses, discountenanced, and like I'olly shews; 
Authority and Reason on her wait. 
As one intended first, not after made 
Occasionally; and. to consum'mate all. 
Greatness of mind and nobleness their scat 
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
About her, as a guard angelic placed." 

To whom the Angel, with contracted brow; — 
" Accuse not Nature ! she hath done her part ; 
Do thou but thine ! and bo not dithdent 
Of Wisdom; she deserts thee not. if thou 
Dismiss not her. when most thou need'st her nigh, 
l\v attribu'ting overmuch to things 
Less excelleiu. as thou thyself perceiv'st. 
I'or, what adn\ir"st thou, what tnuisports thee so? 



l!Oi>iv Mil rAUADISE LOST 261 

An milsidc — fair, no donbt, and worlliy well 
Thy chcrisliing-. tliy hononring-, and thy love; 
Not thy snhjoction. W'oigii with her thyself; 
Then valne. Oft-times notliing' profits more 
Than self-esteem. £jronnded on jnst and right 
Well managed. Of that skill the more thou know'st. 
The more she will acknowledge thee her head, 
And to realities yield all her shows — 
Made so adorn for thy delight the more. 
So awfnl, that with hononr thou may'st love 
Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise. 
Hnt, it the sense of touch, whereby mankind 
Is propagated, seem such dear ilelight 
r>eyond all other, think the same vontsafed 
To cattle and each beast ; which wonld not be 
To them made common and divulged, if aught 
Therein enjoyed were worthy to subdue 
The soul of Man. or passion in him move. 
What higher in her society thou tind'st 
Attractive, human, rational, love still ; 
In loving thou dost well; in passion noj^-^ 
Wherein true Love consists not. Love refines 
The thoughts, and heart enlarges — hath his seat 
In Reason, and is judicious, is the scale 
By which to Heavenly Love thou may'st ascend, 
Not sunk in carnal pleasure ; for which cause 
Among the beasts no mate for thee was founct" 

To whom thus, half abashed. Adam replied: — 
" Neither her outside formed so fair, nor aught 
In procreation, conunon to all kinds 
(Though higher of the genial bed by far, 
And with mysterious reverence. I deem). 
So much delights me as those graceful acts. 
Those thousand decencies, that daily flow 
From all her words and actions, mixed with love 
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned 
Union of mintl. or in us both one soul — 
Harmony to behold in wedded pair 
More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. 
Vet these subject not; I to thee disclose 

HC IV 



2G2 jmiN Mil. TON UOOK VIII 

W li.it iiiw.inl ihiiUT 1 Ui'I, not tluMOlDri' i'oiKHl, 

\\lu> \ucvl witli varitMis lUijocts, Irom tin- s^'uso 

\';uiinisly roprfsoiitiiii;, yot, still fiiv, 

Aitprmo tho host. ;uul IOUdw wliat I appidvi". 

To li>\i' tlum lilam'st mo not iov I mo, lluni say'st, 

J.oails lip lo lloaxoii, is lu>(li llio uav ami i;uiilo; 

In'av with mo, tliou, it' l.iw liil \\li,it 1 a>K. 

I ovo iioi llu' lloavonly Spirits, ami how tlioir lovo 

I'lxpross tlioy by looks only, or do thoy mix 

in;ulianoo, \irtiial or iiumodiato toiioli?" 

To whom tho Aiis^ol, with a smilo that i^lowod 
(."oiostial rosy roil, l.ovo's pritjior lino, 
Aiisworoil; " lot it sniVioo thoo that thou kiiow'sl 
I's happy, ami wiihout I. ovo no happinoss. 
\\ h.iloxor pnii- thon in tho IhkIv I'njov'st 
(Ami pnro thou wort oroatoil) wo onjoy 
In ominonoo, aiiil ohstaolo liiul nono 
Ot" uiomhrano, joint, ov limh, oxolnsivo hars. 
I'lasior than air with air, il Spirits omhraco, 
Total thoy mix, union oi pnro with pmo 
Posirin^', nor rostrainod convoyanoo nooil 
As tlosh to mix with tlosh, or soul with soul. 
Hut I oan now no moro : tho partiuj; Sun 
HoyiMul iho l'"arlh"s croon Capo and vordant Islos 
llosporo.ui sots, my signal to dop.ut. 
'vl^o stroma, livo happy, and K>\o! I>m tirst oi all 
lliui whom to lo\o is to ohoy. and koop 
His throat omnmand ; tako hood lost passion sway 
Thy juili^uiont to do aui^ht whioh olso froo will 
Would not ailmit ; thino and o\ all thy stms 
Tho woal or woo in thoo is plaood ; howaro! 
I in thy porsovorins;' shall rojoioo. 
And all Iho lUost. Stand fast : lo stand or tall 
I'^-oo in thino i>wn arhitromont it lios. 
Tor lot within, no outward aid roijuiro; 
And all lomptatiou to transj>ross ropol." 

Sii s.iyim;-, ho aruso: wIumu Adam thus 
I'ollowod with honodiotion: " Sinoo to part, 
(u>, lloavonly Ctuost, I'Jhoroal Alosscus^or, 
i?cnt Irom whoso sovran vioudnoss 1 adore I 



: IX PAKAIilSI', I-OJST 2W 

(jcntlc to me and affabU- Iiath been 
'I'hy coiulcsccnsioii, aiul shall he hommroj] ever 
With j(rateful iticiiiory. 'i lioii to Mankind 
I'ic j^ood and fricnflly still, and oft return ! " 

So parted lliey, tlie An^^ctl up to Heaven 
I'roni the tliiek shade, and Adam lo hi', hower. 



I II IC NINTH I'.OOK 

'I'm'. Ai'M/Mi'.N'i. Satan, liavitiK <:oiii|)a;>;)<:(| the I'.artli, with medi 
talcd Kuilc rclurnH an a mihl l<y niKlil into I'aradihi:; ciitcrw into the 
Serpctnt HlcepinK- Adam and l-ive in the morning ti" forth to their 
lahours, which JCvc propoHCK to divide in Hcvcral |)lace», each la- 
\><>urinn apart; Adam tonttentH not, alieK'iK the danner lc»t that 
I'^neiiiy of whom they were forewarned hhoiild attempt her found 
alone. I'.ve, loth to he thou^lit not eirf:ijmh(jeet (>r firm enough, 
ur^;eH her Koing apart, the rather fJertirouH to make trial of her 
Mtrenj/fh ; Adam at laiit yieldw. The Serpent find*) her alone; hin 
Mildle approach, firHt fin/Ant^, then hpeakinK, with much flattery ex- 
tolling Mvc ahovc all other creaturen. I'.vt, wondering to hear the 
Serpent Hjieak, a»kH how he attained to human Hpceeh and xueh un- 
(lerstanflinx not till now ; the Serpent anHwerH that hy tatitinK of a 
certain Tree in the fiarden he attained hoth to speech and rea«on, 
till th<;n void of hoth. Jvve require» him to l;rinj< her to that tree, 
anfl findH it to he the Tree of Knowledge forhidden : the Serp<-nt, 
now ujown holder, with many wile« and arKum«-ntK induces her at 
lenj^th to eat. She, pleaned with the tatitc, deliheratr-« a while 
whether to impart thereof to Adam or not; at la«t hrinKS him of 
the fruit; relaten what persuaded hor to eat thereof. Adam, at firwt 
amazed, hut i^erceivin^ her lo«t, reHoIvcH, throuKh vehemence of love, 
to perish with her, and, extenuating the trehpaHs, catH al«o of the 
fruit. The effects thereof in them both ; they seek to cover their 
nakedness ; then fall to variance and accusation of one another. 

No \u)\<K of talk where C',o(\ or Anjjcd fJucst 

With Man, as with his friend, familiar used 

To sit indulgent, and with him jjartake 

Rural repast, jjcrniittinj^ him the while 

Venial discourse unblamed. I now must change 

Those notes to tragic — foul distrust, and breach 

Disloyal, on the part of man, revolt 

And disobedience; on the part of Heaven, 



264 JOHN Mli;i'()N BOOK IX 

Now alit'iiatod, distance aiul distaste, 
Aiit;ci- and just rebuke, and judgment given, 
'J'hat brouglil into this World a world of woe. 
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery, 
Death's harbinger. Sad task ! yet argument 
Not less but more heroic than the wraulh 
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued 
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage 
Of Turnus for Lavinia discsponscd ; 
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's thai so long 
Perplexed the (Ireck, and Cytherea's son: 
]f answerable style 1 can obtain 
Of my celestial Patroness, who deigns 
Her nightly visitation uniniplored. 
And dictates to me slumbering, or insi)ires 
I'^asy luy tnii)reineditated verse. 
Since first this sul)ject for heroic song 
Pleased me, long^ choosing and beginning late, 
Not sedulous by nature to indite 
Wars, hitherto the only argument 
Heroic deemed, chief maislrie to ilissect 
With long and tedious havoc fabled knights 
In battles feigned (the better fortitude 
Of patience and heroic martyrdom 
Unsung), ov to describe races and games, 
Or tilting' furniture, emblazoned shields, 
Inipreses cpiaint, caparisons and steeds, 
leases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights 
At jousi ami tournament; then marshalled feast 
Served up in hall with sewers and seneshals: 
The skill of artifice or office mean ; 
Not that which justly gives heroic name 
To person or to poem ! Me, of these 
Nor skilled nor studious, higher argument 
Kemains, sullicient of itself to raise 
That name, unless an age too lafe. or cold 
Climat, or years, damp my intended wing 
Depressed; and much they may if all be mine. 
Not Hers who brings it nightly to my ear. 
v^he Sun was sunk, and after him the Star 



UOOK IX PARA DISK r.OST 2(55 

Of ITcspcrus, whose ofiicc is to hriiicf 

T\vili},^Iit ii])oii tlic ICartli, short arhitcr 

'Twixt (lay and night, and now from end (o cm] 

Night's lu-misphcrc had veiled the horizon round, 

When Satan, who late fled heforc the threats 

Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improved 

In meditated fraud and malice, bent 

On Man's destruction, maugre what might hap 

Of heavier on himself, fearless returned. 

By night he fled, and at midnight retin-ned 

From compassing the Earth — cautious of day 

Since Uriel, Regent of the Sun, descried 

His entrance, and forwarned the Cherubim 

That kept their watch. Thence, full of anguish, 

driven, 
The si)ace of seven continued nights he rode 
With darkness — thrice the equinoctial line 
He circled, four times crossed the car of Night 
From pole to pole, traversing each colure — 
On the eighth returned, and on the coast averse 
From entrance or cherubic watch by stealth 
Found unsuspected way. There was a place 
(Now not, though Sin, not Time, first wraught the 

change) 
Where Tigris, at the foot of Paradise, 
Into a gulf shot under ground, till part 
Rose up a fountain by the Tree of Life. 
In with the river sunk, and with it rose, 
Satan, involved in rising mist; then sought 
Where to lie hid. Sea he had searched and land 
From Eden over Pontus, and the Pool 
M.-cotis, up beyond the river Ob; 
Downward as far antartic; and, in length, 
West from Orontes to the ocean barred 
At Daricn, thence to the land where flows 
Ganges and Indus. Thus the orb he roamed 
With narrow search, and with inspection deep 
Considered every creature, which of all 
Most opportune might serve his wiles, and found 
The Serpent subtlest beast of all the field. 



rn\ 



JOHN MiiroN 



1U>(>K IX 



llmi, ;il'ti-t loiiv; di'lialo. iin\M>Iulo 

Ol' t)u)u,i;lits iTvolvovl. his lin.il Mnduic ilinso 

V\{ voss<"l, lillosi Imp of li.uul. iii wlimu 

111 onliM'. ;»ml his ihirk SUjij;vstiiM\s l\i(li" 

I'uMU sh.dpost si,i;hl ; lor iti tho wilv stiako 

\\ l\.iii>vcf sloij^hts iitMu- wiMil*! siispioitMis juark 

As l\ou\ his wit ;uul iiativo suhtloly 

rrooooiliuj;. which. ii\ other hoasis iihs^M \ cil, 

Pouhl i\>ij;h( hojjot ot* ihah»>Hi' powor 

Avtivo within lH\vot\(l the sonso of hrvito. 

Thus ho toSi>lvovl. hut liisl fimn inw.iul i^i'icf 

His IxM'stinj; passion into pl.imis thus ponro«l : — 

"O l'"arth, l\ow hUo to lK\i\ri\. U not ptiM\M\i>il 
IVKmo justlv. scat worthioi ol (.iv>»ls. as hiuU 
With Mv>Mul thiMtsMits, iiMonuini; wlial was oKl 1 
Ww what (.ioil. alter hotter. w«mso w*>nKl hiiilili' 
'IVrrostvial lloavo«\. ilanoovl touml hy other Heavens, 
That sltine. yet hear their hrij;ht iMVieions l.niips. 
l.ij^ht ahove lij;ht. ior thee ahnie, as seems, 
lt\ thoo eoneentrins; all their piri-unis heauis 
Of saorcvl intUtenee ! As (.iovl \\\ Heaven 
Is eoittre, vet extomls to all. so thtni 
C'entrins;- reeeiv'st from all tht>se i>tl^s; in thoo. 
Not in then\selves. all then known vittne appears, 
TriHluetive in herh. plant, anil i\i>hler hirth 
Of ereatnres a<nn\ate with s;railnal life 
Of ijrowth. sense, reasiM\. all snnime»l np in Man. 
With what ilelijjht einiUl I have w.\lkeil thee romul, 
vjf I emiKl joy in atii^ht — sweet iiUerehanj^o 
t'>f hill anil valley, rivers, woovls. atul plaitts, 
Nmv l.u\^l, r\ow se.i, anil shores with forest crowned, 
Koeks. liens, anil eaves! r>nt I in notie of these 
Vind i^laee or relnv;e; aiul the nune I see 
rieasnres ahont t\te. so ntneh n»ore I feel 
Tormetit within t\»e. as from the hatefnl siej^c 
Of eotitraries; all jjooil to me heeoi\ies 
l*ano, ai\il \\\ Heaveit i\(neh worse wotiKl he my state."* 
R\tt neither here seek I. nor in lleave>\. 
To ilwell. nnless hy ttiaistriiisv Heaven's Snprente; 
NvM hope to he mvself less miserable 



fiooK tx I'AllAinSK r,r),ST 2^;7 

By wliat I seek, l;iit ollicrji to makr Htich 

Ah I, tlioiij^li thcrchy worse to nic rvAowu]. 

Vnr only in dcstroyinjf I find cane 

To my rdcntlcsH tli(nij<htH; and him flcstroycd, 

Or won to what may work hi-i nttcr Kjhh, 

l''or whom all this was ma<lc, all this will sooti 

l''f*IIf>w, as to him iinkcfl in weal or wrx; : 

In woe th(!n, (hat dent ruction wide may ran({f. I 

Tf) mo shall he the i^hiry sole amfwijj 

The ftifernal l'r)wers, in one flay to have marred 

What he, Alniij.d)ty stylerl, six nij^hts and days 

(Continued makirij^, atid who knrjws how lonj( 

I'eforc had hccn contrivinj^? thonj^h jK-rhapH 

Not lon/ifcr than since I in one ni>^ht fr(;ed 

I'Vom servittule inj^lorir^ns well nij^fi half 

The Anj^elic Namr;, and tliifuif:r left the throng 

Of his adorers. He, fo he avenj^^ed, 

And to repair his nnnihers thus impaired — 

Whether such virtue, spent of olfl, now failed 

More Angels to create (if they at least 

Arc his created), or to »pitc u» more — 

Determined to advance into our room 

A creature formed of earth, and him endow, 

Exalted from so hasc orij^inal. 

With heaveidy spoils, our spoils. What he derreerl 

Ife effeeted; Man he made, atul ff;r him huilt 

Maj^nifirent this Worlfl, and ICarth his seat, 

ifim I.ord pronounced, and, O indif^nity! 

Suhjecterl to his service Angel-winj^s 

Anrl flaming ministers, to watch and tend 

Their earthly charge. Of these the vigilance 

I dread, and to elude, thus wrapt in mist 

()i midnight vapr>ur, glide ohscure, and f<ry 

In every hush anrl brake, where hap rnay fmd 

'1 he Serpent sleeping, in whose mazy ff>Ids 

To hifle me, and the dark intent I hring. 

(> foul descent! that I, who erst contender! 

With Gods to sit the highest, am now constrained 

Into a beast, and, mixed with bestial slime. 

This essence to incarnate and imhrute. 



268 JOHN MILTON hook ix 

riiat to the higlith iif doity aspiroil ! 

lUit what will not aiuhition aiul rovcui;o 

l>osccml to? Who aspires must down as low 

As hijih ho soannl, ohtioxious, t\rst or last. 

To basest things. Rovoni;e. at tirst tluniyh swoot, 

lUttor ore loiij; hack on itsolf roooilso 

Lot it; 1 rook not. so it lij;ht well ainuxl, 

Sinoo hijihor I fall short, on liini who uoxt 

Trovokos my onvy. this now favourite 

C>t lloaven. this RLin of Clay, sou of despite, 

\\ luMU. us the more to spite, his !Maker raised 

.V>om dust : spite thou with spite is host repaid." 

So sayinsi, through each thiokot. dank or dry. 
Like a hlaok mist low-oreopini;, he hold on 
His midnight search, where soonest he mijiht fmd 
The Serpent. Him fast sleeping- soon he found. 
In labyrinth of mauy a round self-rowled. 
His head the n\idst. well stored with subtle wiles: 
Not yet in horrid shade or dismal don : 
Nor noceut yet, but ou the grassy herb. 
Fearless, uufeared. he slept, lu at his mouth 
The Povil eutered. and his brutal sense, 
lu heart or head, possessing soon inspired 
With act intoUigential ; but his sleep 
Oisturbed uot. waiting close the approach of morn. 

Now, whenas sacrod light began to dawn 
In lulen on the huniid tlowors. that breatht.\l 
Their morning inconse. when all things that breathe 
From the Farth's great altar send up silent praise 
To the Creator, and his nostrils ftll 
With grateful smell, forth came the human pair. 
And joitied their vocal worship to the quire 
Of creatures wanting voice; that done, partake 
The season, prime for sweetest scents and airs ; 
Then com'mune how that day they best n\ay ply 
Their growing work — for much their work outgrew 
The hands' dispatch of two g-ardoning so wide: 
And Fve first to her husband thus began ; — 

"Adam, well may we labour still to dress 
This liarden. still to tend plant, herb, and tlowor, 



K IX IWlv ADISK lA)Sr 269 

l>ur pK\isant task onioiin\l; Init. (ill imu'o haiuls 

\h\ lis, tl\o work mulor our lalunir ^rows, 

I uMiiious 1\\ i\-straiul : what wo l>y day 

1 .op ovorjjrowii, or prune, or pn>p. lU" biiul, 
One nis;lU or two with wanton i;rowth doriilos, 

Tomlini; to wiUl. Thon, thi.Mol\>iv, now ailviso, 
C)r luwr what li> my iniuil Ihsl thons^hts prosont. 
I Ai us vliviilo inu" kihonrs- thon whoto ohoi*.*." 

I i\uls tlico. or whoro most noods, whether to winil 

I lu" woodbine round this arhour, ov direet 

riie ehispinj; ivy where to elimli : while I 
lu yoi\der siirinyf of roses iuteruiixed 
W ith myrtle Imd what \o reilress till i\oi>n. 
I'\^r. while so near eaeh other thus all ilay 
Our task we ehoose. what womler it' sit near 
Looks intervene and smiles, or objeets new 
Casnal discourse ilraw on. whieb intermits 
C)ur day's wi>rk, brinjj;ht to little, thouijh beiiiin 
l\arly, and the hour oi supper eomes utiearneil ! " 
Vo w lu>m mild answer Adam thus retintteil: — 
" Sole ICve. associate sole, to me beyouil 
(.\>mpare alnne all living creatures dear! 
Well hast thon miitioned. well thy t!»oui;hts 

imployfd 
How we inij;ht best lultil the woik which here 
(.!od hath assij^ticd us. nor of me shalt pass 
I'upraiscd; for notbiuj; liu'clier can be found 
In woman than to study houseln>ld j^ood, 
And ^hhI wi>rks in her husband ti^ promote. 
\"et not so strictly hath our \.ord imposed 
Labour as to debar ns when we need 
Refreshment, whether food, or talk between, 
b'ood of the iuit\d. or this sweet intercourse 
Oi looks and smiles; for smiles from reason (low 
To brute denied, and arc of love the food — 
Love, not the lowest end of human life. 
I'or not to irksome toil, but to ilelij^ht. 
He made ns. anil delight to reason jinned. 
These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint 
hands 



270 JOHN MILTON BOOK IX 

Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide 
As we need walk, till younger hands ere long 
Assist us. But, if much converse perhaps 
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield; 
For solitude sometimes is best society. 
And short retirement urges sweet return. 
But other doubt possesses me, lest harm 
Befall thee, severed from me ; for thou know'st 
What hath been warned us — what malicious foe, 
Envying our happiness, and of his own 
Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame 
By sly assault and somewhere nigh at hand 
Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find 
His wish and best advantage, us asunder. 
Hopeless to circumvent us joined, where each 
To other speedy aid might lend at need. 
Whether his first design be to withdraw 
Our fealty from God, or to disturb 
Conjugal love — than which perhaps no bliss 
Enjoyed by us excites his envy more — 
Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side 
That gave thee being, still shades thee and protects. 
The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks. 
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays. 
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures." 

To whom the virgin majesty of Eve, 
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets. 
With sweet austere composure thus replied : — 

*' Offspring of Heaven and Earth, and all Earth's 
lord! 
That such an Enemy we have, who seeks 
Our ruin, both by thee informed I learn, 
And from the parting Angel overheard, 
As in a shady nook I stood behind. 
Just then returned at shut of evening flowers. 
But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt 
To God or thee, because we have a foe 
May tempt it, I expected not to hear. 
His violence thou fear'st not, being such 
As we, not capable of death or pain, 



BOOK IX PARADISE LOST 271 

Can cither not receive, or can repel. 
His fraud is, then, thy fear ; which plain infers 
Thy equal fear that my firm faith and love 
Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced : 
Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy 

breast, 
Adam ! misthought of her to thee so dear ? " 

To whom, with healing words, Adam replied: — 
" Daughter of God and Man, immortal Eve ! — 
For such thou art, from sin and blame entire — 
Not diffident of thee do I dissuade 
Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid 
The attempt itself, intended by our Foe. 
For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses 
The tempted with dishonour foul, supposed 
Not incorruptible of faith, not proof 
Against temptation. Thou thyself with scorn 
And anger wouldst resent the offered wrong, 
Though ineffectual found ; misdeem not, then, 
If such affront I labour to avert 
From thee alone, which on us both at once 
The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare ; 
Or, daring, first on me the assault shall light. 
Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn — • 
Subtle he needs must be who could seduce 
Angels — nor think superfluous others' aid. 
I from the influence of thy looks receive 
Access in every virtue — in thy sight 
More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were 
Of outward strength ; while shame, thou looking on, 
Shame to be overcome or overreached, 
Would utmost vigour raise, and raised unite. 
Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel 
When I am present, and thy trial choose 
With me, best witness of thy virtue tried ? " 

So spake domestic Adam in his care 
And matrimonial love ; but Eve, who thought 
Less attributed to her faith sincere, 
Thus her reply with accent sweet renewed : — 

" If this be our condition, thus to dwell 



272 JOHN MII/ION UOOK tx 

111 iiarimv (.•ircuit slraitoiioil l)v a I'iH", 

Siil'llo or violoiU, wo not oiuUuhI 

Siii^lo with like (lofiMicc wliorrvcr met. 

How arc wo happy, still in foar of harm? 

iUit harm jiroooilos not sin: only (uir Iuk^ 

'I'oniptini;- atTronts ns with his I'onl ostoom 

Of onv into!;rity : his fonl ostoom 

Stioks no disluMunir on mir front, Init turns 

h'onl on himsolf; thon whoroforo slunmod or foarod 

l?y ns, who rathor ilonblo honour j^ain 

I'Vom his snrmiso provoil falso. timl poaoo within. 

Favour from lloavon, our witnoss, froi\i tho evont? 

Ami what is faith, lovo, virtuo, nnassayed 

Alono. without oxtorior holp sustained?^ 

Let us tiot thon suspoot our happy state 

Loft so iniporfot by tho Maker wise 

As not secure to single or eomhinod. 

Frail is our happiness, if this he so; 

And I'aIou were no I'-den. thus exposed."' 

Vo whom thus .\dam forvontly replied: — 
(' ("> Woman, host are all things as the will 
Of (kxI ordained thorn; his creating hand 
Nothing iniporfot or doticiont left 
Of all that ho created — much less Man, 
Ov aught that might his happy state secure. 
Secure from outward force. Within himself 
The danger lies, yet lies within his power; 
Against his will he can receive no harm. 
Ihit CukI loft free the Will; for what obeys 
Reason is free ; and Reason he made right, 
lUit bid her well be ware, and still erect. 
Lest, by some fair appearing good surprised. 
She dictate false, and misinform the Will 
To do what God expressly hath forbid.; 
Not then mistrust, but tender lovo, enjoins 
That 1 should mind thee oft ; and mind thou me, 
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve. 
Since Reason not impossibly may moot 
Some specious object by tho foe suborned. 
And fall into deception unaware. 



HOOK IX PARADISE LOST 273 

Not kecpiiijj strictest watch, as she was wanioil. 
*Seek iu>l temptation, then, which to avoid 
\\ do belter, and most hkely if from me 
Thou sever not: trial will come unsou^^ht. 
W'ouklst thou approve thy constancy, approve 
First thy oheilience; the other who can know, 
Not seeini; thee attemi)teil, who attest? 
lUit, if thon think trial unsought may Inul 
Us hoth securer than thus wanunl thou seem'st, 
Go;vfor thy stay, not free, absents thee more. 
Go in thy native ituiocenee ; rely 
On what thou hast of virtue; suuuuon all; 
For God towards thee halh done his part: do thine." 

So spake the Tatriarch of Mankind; but lu'c 
rersisted; yet submiss. thoui^h last, replied: — 

" With thy permissiiMi, then, and thus forewarned, 
Ghietly by what thy own last reasoning- words 
Touched only, that our trial, when least sought, 
May find us hoth perhaps far less prepared. 
The willinger I go, > nor much expect 
A l'\)e so proud will first the weaker seek ; 
So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse.'' 

Thus saying, from her husband's h;uul her hand 
Soft she witlulrew. and. like a wood nymi)h light. 
Oread or Dryad, or of Delia's train. 
Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self 
In gait surpassed and goddess-like deixn-t. 
Though not as she with how and (piiver ;»rmed, 
r>ul with such ganlening tools as Art, yet ruile, 
tiuiltless of fire had formeil, or Angels brought. 
To Tales, or Pomona, thus adorned, 
Likest she seemed — Pomona when she tied 
Vertumnus — or to Ceres in her prime. 
Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove. 
Her long with ardent look his eye pursued 
Delighteil, but desiring more her stay. 
Oft he to her his charge of ipiick return 
Repeated ; she to him as oft engaged 
To be returned by noon amid the bower. 
And all things in best order to invite 



274 JOHN MILTON BOOK IX 

Noontide repast, or afternoon's repose. 

O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve, 

Of thy presumed return ! event perverse ! 

Thou never from that hour in Paradise 

Found'st either sweet repast or sound repose ; 

Such ambush, hid among sweet flowers and shades, 

Waited, with hellish rancour imminent. 

To intercept thy way, or send thee back 

Despoiled of innocence, of faith, of bliss. 

For now, and since first break of dawn, the Fiend, 

Mere Serpent in appearance, forth was cnme. 

And on his quest where likeliest he might find 

The only two of mankind, but in them 

The whole included race, his purposed prey. 

-In bower and field he sought, where any tuft 

Of grove or garden-plot more pleasant lay. 

Their tendance or plantation for delight; 

By fountain or by shady rivulet 

He sought them both, but wished his hap might find 

Eve separate ; he wished, but not with hope 

Of what so seldom chanced, when to his wish, 

Beyond his hope. Eve separate he spies, 

Veiled in a cloud of fragrance, where she stood. 

Half-spied, so thick the roses bushing round 

About her glowed, oft stooping to support 

Each flower of tender stalk, whose head, though gay 

Carnation, purple, azure, or specked with gold, 

Hung drooping unsustained. Them she upstays 

Gently with myrtle band, mindless the while 

Herself, though fairest unsupported flower. 

From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh. 

Nearer he drew, and many a walk traversed 

Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm; 

Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen 

Among thick-woven arborets, and flowers 

Imbordered on each bank, the hand of Eve : 

Spot more delicious than those gardens feigned 

Or of revived Adonis, or renowned 

Alcinoiis, host of old Laertes' son. 

Or that, not mystic, where the sapient king 



BOOK IX PARADISE LOST 275 

Held dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse. 
Much he the place admired, the person more. 
As one who, long in populous city pent, 
Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, 
Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe 
Among the pleasant villages and farms 
Adjoined, from each thing met conceives delight — 
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, 
Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound — 
If chance with nymph-like step fair virgin pass. 
What pleasing seemed for her now pleases more, 
She most, and in her look sums all delight : 
Such pleasure took the Serpent to behold 
This flowery plat, the sweet recess of Eve 
Thus early, thus alone. Her heavenly form 
Angelic, but more soft and feminine, 
Her graceful innocence, her every air 
Of gesture or least action, overawed 
His malice, and with rapine sweet bereaved 
His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought. 
That space the Evil One abstracted stood 
From his own evil, and for the time remained 
Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed, 
Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge. 
But the hot hell that always in him burns. 
Though in mid Heaven, soon ended his delight, 
And tortures him now more, the more he sees 
Of pleasure not for him ordained. Then soon 
Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts 
Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites : — 
" Thoughts, whither have ye led me ? with what 
sweet 
Compulsion thus transported to forget 
What hither brought us ? hate, not love, nor hope 
Of Paradise for Hell, here to taste 
Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy, 
Save what is in destroying; other joy 
To me is lost. Then let me not let pass 
Occasion which now smiles. Behold alone 
The Woman, opportune to all attempts — 



276 JOHN MILTON BOOK IX 

Her husband, for I view far round, not nigh, 

Whose higher intellectual more I shun. 

And strength, of courage haughty, and of limb 

Heroic built, though of terrestrial mould; 

Foe not informidable, exempt from wound — 

I not; so much hath Hell debased, and pain 

Infeebled me, to what I was in Heaven. 

She fair, divinely fair, fit love for Gods, 

Not terrible, though terror be in love. 

And beauty, not approached by stronger hate. 

Hate stronger under show of love well feigned — 

The way which to her ruin now I tend." 

So spake the Enemy of Mankind, enclosed 
In serpent, inmate bad, and toward Eve 
Addressed his way — not with indented wave, 
Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear. 
Circular base of rising folds, that towered 
Fold above fold, a surging maze; his head 
Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes; 
With burnished neck of verdant gold, erect 
Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass 
Floated redundant. Pleasing was his shape 
And lovely; never since the serpent kind 
Lovelier — not those that in Illyria changed 
Hermione and Cadmus, or the God 
In Epidaurus ; nor to which transformed 
Ammonian Jove, or Capitoline, was seen, 
He with Olympias, this with her who bore 
Scipio, the highth of Rome. With tract oblique 
At first, as one who sought access but feared 
To interrupt, sidelong he works his way. 
As when a ship, by skilful steersman wrought 
Nigh river's mouth or foreland, where the 

wind 
Veers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail, 
So varied he, and of his tortuous train 
Curled many a wanton wreath in sight of Eve, 
To lure her eye. She, busied, heard the sound 
Of rustling leaves, but minded not, as used 
To such disport before her through the field 



BOOK IX PARADISE LOST 277 

From every beast, more duteous at her call 

Than at Circean call the herd disguised. 

He, bolder now, uncalled before her stood, 

But as in gaze admiring. Oft he bowed 

His turret crest and sleek enamelled neck, 

Fawning, and licked the ground whereon she trod. 

His gentle dumb expression turned at length 

The eye of Eve to mark his play ; he, glad 

Of her attention gained, with serpent-tongue 

Organic, or impulse of vocal air, 

His fraudulent temptation thus began: — 

" Wonder not, sovran mistress (if perhaps 
Thou canst who art sole wonder), much less arm 
Thy looks, the heaven of mildness, with disdain, 
Displeased that I approach thee thus, and gaze 
Insatiate, I thus single, nor have feared 
Thy awful brow, more awful thus retired. 
Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair. 
Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine 
By gift, and thy celestial beauty adore, 
With ravishment beheld — there best beheld 
Where universally admired. But here. 
In this enclosure wild, these beasts among, 
Beholders rude, and shallow to discern 
Half what in thee is fair, one man except. 
Who sees thee (and what is one?) who shouldst 

be seen 
A Goddess among Gods, adored and served 
By Angels numberless, thy daily train ? " 

So glozed the Tempter, and his proem tuned. 
Into the heart of Eve his words made way. 
Though at the voice much marvelling; at length, 
Not unamazed, she thus in answer spake : — 

" What may this mean? Language of Man pro- 
nounced 
By tongue of brute, and human sense expressed ! 
The first at least of these I thought denied 
To beasts, whom God on their creation-day 
Created mute to all articulate sound ; 
The latter I demur, for in their looks 

R HCIV 



278 .UMIN MILTON hook ix 

Mucli iwison, aiul in their actions, oft appears. 

riioo. ScuKMii. subtlest boast of all the fioUl 
1 knew, but uoi with huuiau voieo endued; 
Redouble, then, iliis niiraele. and sav. 
How eant'st thou speakable of unite, and how 
To n\e so friendly grown above the rest 
C">f brutal kind that daily are in sight : 
Say. for such wonder claims attention due." 

To whom the guileful Tempter thus replied: — 
" luupress of this fair World, resplendent l\ve ! 
Ivasy to me it is to tell thee all 
What thou conunand'st, and right thou shoiddst 

be obeyed. 
1 was at first as other beasts that graze 

The trodden herb, of abject thoughts ai\d low. 
As was uty food, nor aught but food discerned 
Or sex. and apprehended nothing high : 
Till on a day, roving the field. I chanced 
A gvodly tree far distant to behold. 
Loaden with fruit of fairest colours mixed. 
Ruddy and gold. I nearer drew to gaze; 
When from the boughs a savoury odour blown, 
(.Grateful to appetite, more pleased my sense 
Than smell of sweetest femiel. or the teats 
Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at eveti. 
I'nsncked of lamb or kid. that tend their play. 
To satisfy the sharp desire 1 had 
Of tasting those fair Apples. 1 resolved 
Not to defer: htinger and thirst at once. 
Powerful persuaders, quickened at the scent 
Of that alluring fruit, urged me so keen. 
About the mossy trunk I wound me soon ; 
For, high from ground, the branches would 

require 
Thy utmost reach, or Adam's ; round the Tree 
All other beasts that saw, with like desire 
Longing and envying stood, but could not reach. 
Amid the tree now got. where plenty hung 
Tenjpting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill 
I spared not ; for such pleasure till that hour 



uooK IX I'AUADISI'', LOST 279 

At fctd or foinitaiii never liiid I found. 

Sated at leii^lli, ere loiif; I iiiif^Iil perceive 

Strang'c alteration in me, to (U'L;ice 

CJf Reason in my inward powers, and Si)ei'eli 

Wanted not lon}4', tlionj^Ii to this shape iil.iined. 

'Ilieneel'orth to speenhitions liij^h or deep 

I turned my tliouf^iits, and with capacious mind 

Considered ail things visiiile in I leaVen, 

Or i'lartli, or Middle, all tliinj^s fair and t^ood. 

lUit all that l;iir ;ind j^ood in thy cHvine 

Semhlanic, ;ind in thy heauly's heavenly ray, 

United I heluld no lair lo lliiiie 

iMpiivaleiit or second; wiiich compelled 

Me thus, thoujjh importune jjcrhaps, to come 

And gaze, and worship thee of ri^ht declared 

Sovran of creatures, universal Dame!" 

So t.'dked the spirited sly Snake; ajul Iwe, 
Yet more ama/ed, unwary thus rtplied : — 

" Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in douht 
'Jhe virtue of that I'ruil, in thee (irst proved. 
Hut say, where grows the Tree? from hence how 

far? 
l-'or many are the trees of ( iod that grow 
Jn I'aradise, and various, yet unknown 
To us; in such ahinidance lies our choice 
As leaves a greater store of fruit unlouched, 
Still hanging incorruptihle, till men 
(irow up to their provision, and more hands 
Help to dishurden Nature <jf her hearth." 

To whom the wily Adder, hlithe and glad ; — 
" Empress, the way is ready, and not long — 
lieyond a row of myrtles, on a Hal, 
Fast hy a fountain, one small thicket past 
Of hlowing myrrh and halm. If thou accept 
My conduct, J can hring thee thither soon." 

" J-ead, then," said I'lve. lie, leading, swiflly 
rovvled 
In tangles, and m.ule intricate seem straight, 
'!"() mischief swifl. I lo]ic elevates, and joy 
Hrightens his crest. As when a wandering fire, 



280 JOHN MILTON BOOK IX 

Compact of unctuous vapour, which the night 
Condenses, and the cold invirons round, 
Kindled through agitation to a flame 
(Which oft, they say, some evil Spirit attends). 
Hovering and blazing with delusive light, 
Misleads the amazed night-wanderer from his way 
To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool, 
There swallowed up and lost, from succour far : 
So glistered the dire Snake, and into fraud 
Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree 
Of Prohibition, root of all our woe ; 
Which when she saw, thus to her guide she 
spake : — 

" Serpent, we might have spared our coming 
hither. 
Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess, 
The credit of whose virtue rest with thee — 
Wondrous, indeed, if cause of such effects ! 
But of this tree we may not taste nor touch; 
God so commanded, and left that command 
Sole daughter of his voice : the rest, we live 
Law to ourselves ; our Reason is our Law." 

To whom the Tempter guilefully replied: — 
" Indeed ! Hath God then said that of the fruit 
Of all these garden-trees ye shall not eat, 
Yet lords declared of all in Earth or Air ? " 

To whom thus Eve, yet sinless : — -" Of the fruit 
Of each tree in the garden we may eat ; 
But of the fruit of this fair Tree, amidst 
The Garden, God hath said, ' Ye shall not eat 
Thereof, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die.' " 

She scarce had said, though brief, when now more 
bold 
The Tempter, but, with shew of zeal and love 
To Man, and indignation at his wrong. 
New part puts on, and, as to passion moved. 
Fluctuates disturbed, yet comely, and in act 
Raised, as of some great matter to begin. 
As when of old some orator renowned 
In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence 



BOOK IX 



PARADISE LOST 281 

Flourished, since mute, to some great cause addressed, 

Stood in himself collected, while each part, 

Motion, each act, won audience ere the tongue 

Sometimes in highth began, as no delay 

Of preface brooking through his zeal of right: 

So standing, moving, or to highth upgrown, 

The Tempter, all impassioned, thus began : — 

" O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving Plant, 

Mother of science ! now I feel thy power 

Within me clear, not only to discern 

Things in their causes, but to trace the ways 

Of highest agents, deemed however wise. 

Queen of this Universe ! do not believe 

Those rigid threats of death. Ye shall not die. 

How should ye? By the Fruit? it gives you life 

To knowledge. By the Threatener? look on me, 

Me who have touched and tasted, yet both live. 

And life more perfet have attained than Fate 

Meant me, by ventring higher than my lot. 

Shall that be shut to Man which to the Beast 

Is open? or will God incense his ire 

For such a petty trespass, and not praise 

Rather your dauntless virtue, whom the pain 

Of death denounced, whatever thing Death be, 

Deterred not from achieving what might lead 

To happier Hfe, knowledge of Good and Evil? 

Of good, how just! of evil — if what is evil 

Be real, why not known, since easier shunned ? 

God, therefore, cannot hurt ye and be just; 

Not just, not God; not feared then, nor obeyed: 

Your fear itself of death removes the fear. 

Why, then, was this forbid ? Why but to awe, 

Why but to keep ye low and ignorant. 

His worshipers? He knows that in the day 

Ye eat thereof your eyes, that seem so clear. 

Yet are but dim, shall perfetly be then 

Opened and cleared, and ye shall be as Gods, 

Knowing both good and evil, as they know. 

That ye should be as Gods, since I as Man, 

Internal Man, is but proportion meet — 



282 JOHN MILTON BOOK IX 

I. of brute, human; ye, of human, Gods. 
So ye shall die perhaps, by putting off 
Human, to put on Gods — death to be wished. 
Though threatened, which no worse than this can 

bring ! 
And what are Gods, that Man may not become 
As they, participating godlike food? 
The Gods are first, and that advantage use 
On our belief, that all from them proceeds. 
I question it; for this fair Earth I see, 
Warmed by the Sun, producing every kind; 
Them nothing. If they all things, who enclosed 
Knowledge of Good and Evil in this Tree, 
That whoso eats thereof forthwith attains 
Wisdom without their leave ? and wherein lies 
The offence, that Man should thus attain to know ? 
What can your knowledge hurt him, or this Tree 
Impart against his will, if all be his? 
Or is it envy? and can envy dwell 

In Heavenly breasts? These, these and many more 
Causes import your need of this fair Fruit. 
Goddess humane, reach, then, and freely taste I " 

He ended ; and his words, replete with guile, 
Into her heart too easy entrance won. 
Fixed on the Fruit she gazed, which to behold 
Might tempt alone ; and in her ears the sound 
Yet rung of his persuasive words, impregncd 
With reason, to her seeming, and with truth. 
Meanwhile the hour of noon drew on, and waked 
An eager appetite, raised by the smell 
So savoury of that Fruit, which with desire, 
Inclinable now grown to touch or taste, 
Solicited her longing eye ; yet first, 
Pausing a while, thus to herself she mused : — 

" Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of Fruits, 
Though kept from Man, and worthy to be admired. 
Whose taste, too long forborne, at first assay 
Gave elocution to the mute, and taught 
The tongue not made for speech to speak thy praise. 
Thy praise he also who forbids thy use 



BOOK IX PARADIS^ LOST 283 

Conceals not from us, namino^ thee the Tree 

Of Knowledge, knowledge both of Good and Evil; 

Forbids us then to taste. But his forbidding 

Commends thee more, while it infers the good 

By thee communicated, and our want ; 

For good unknown sure is not bad, or, had 

And yet unknown, is aj not had at all. 

In plain, then, what forbids he but to know? 

Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise I 

.Such prohibitions bind not. But, if Death 

Bind us with after-bands, what profits then 

Our inward freedom ? In the day we eat 

Of this fair Fruit, our doom is we shall die! 

How dies the Serpent? He hath eaten, and lives, 

And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns. 

Irrational till then. For us alone 

Was death invented? or to us denied 

This intellectual food, for beasts reserved? 

For beasts it seems ; yet that one beast which first 

Hath tasted envies not, but brings with joy 

The good befallen him, author unsuspect, 

Friendly to Man, far from deceit or guile. 

What fear I, then? rather, what know to fear 

Under this ignorance of Good and Evil, 

Of God or Death, of law or penalty? 

Here grows the cure of all, this Fruit divine, 

Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste, 

Of virtue to make wise. What hinders, then. 

To reach, and feed at once both body and mind ? " 

So saying, her rash hand in evil hour 
Forth-reaching to the Fruit, she plucked, she eat. 
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat, 
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe 
That all was lost. Back to the thicket slunk 
The guilty Serpent, and well might, for Eve, 
Intent now only on her taste, naught else 
Regarded ; such delight till then, as seemed, 
In fruit she never tasted, whether true, 
Or fancied so through expectation high 
Of knowledge ; nor was Godhead from her thought. 



284 JOHN MILTON book ix 

Greedily she ingorged without restraint. 
And knew not eating death. Satiate at length, 
And hightened as with wine, jocond and boon, 
Thus to herself she pleasingly began : — 

" O sovran, virtuous, precious of all trees 
In Paradise ! of operation blest 
To sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed. 
And thy fair Fruit let hang, as to no end 
Created ! but henceforth my early care, 
Not without song, each morning, and due praise, 
Shall tend thee, and the fertil burden ease 
Of thy full branches, offered free to all ; 
Till, dieted by thee, I grow mature 
In knowledge, as the Gods who all things know. 
Though others envy what they cannot give — 
For, had the gift been theirs, it had not here 
Thus grown ! Experience, next to thee I owe, 
Best guide : not following thee, I had remained 
In ignorance; thou open'st Wisdom's way, 
And giv'st access, though secret she retire. 
And I perhaps am secret : Heaven is high — 
High, and remote to see from thence distinct 
Each thing on Earth ; and other care perhaps 
May have diverted from continual watch 
Our great Forbidder, safe with all his Spies 
About him. But to Adam in what sort 
Shall I appear? Shall I to him make known 
As yet my change, and give him to partake 
Full happiness with me, or rather not. 
But keep the odds of knowledge in my power 
Without copartner? so to add what wants 
In female sex, the more to draw his love, 
And render me more equal, and perhaps — 
A thing not undesirable — sometime 
Superior; for, inferior, who is free? 
This may be well ; but what if God have seen, 
And death ensue? Then I shall be no more; 
And Adam, wedded to another Eve, 
Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct ! 
A death to think ! Confirmed, then, I resolve 



BOOK IX PARADISE LOST 285 

Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe. 
So dear I love him that with him all deaths 
I could endure, without him live no life." 

So saying, from the Tree her step she turned, 
But first low reverence done, as to the Power 
That dwelt within, whose presence had infused 
Into the plant sciential sap, derived 
From nectar, drink of Gods. Adam the while, 
Waiting desirous her return, had wove 
Of choicest flowers a garland, to adorn 
Her tresses, and her rural labours crown, 
As reapers oft are wont their harvest-queen. 
Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and new 
Solace in her return, so long delayed ; 
Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill, 
Misgave him. He the faltering measure felt, 
And forth to meet her went, the way she took 
That morn when first they parted. By the Tree 
Of Knowledge he must pass; there he her met. 
Scarce from the Tree returning; in her hand 
A bough of fairest fruit, that downy smiled, 
New gathered, and ambrosial smell diffused. 
To him she hasted ; in her face excuse 
Came prologue, and apology to prompt, 
Which, with bland words at will, she thus addressed :— 

" Hast thou not wondered, Adam, at my stay ? 
Thee I have missed, and thought it long, deprived 
Thy presence — agony of love till now 
Not felt, nor shall be twice ; for never more 
Mean I to try, what rash untried I sought. 
The pain of absence from thy sight. But strange 
Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear. 
This Tree is not, as we are told, a Tree 
Of danger tasted, nor to evil vmknown 
Opening the way, but of divine effect 
To open eyes, and make them Gods who taste ; 
And hath been tasted such. The Serpent wise, 
Or not restrained as we, or not obeying. 
Hath eaten of the Fruit, and is become 
Not dead, as we are threatened, but thenceforth 



286 JOHN MII/rON BOOK ix 

Knducd with human voice and human sense, 
Kcasonin.2[ to admiration, and with me 
Persuasively hath so prevailed that I 
Have also tasted, and have also found 
The effects to correspond — opener mine eyes, 
Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart. 
And growing up to Godhead ; which for thee 
Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise. 
For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss; 
Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon. 
Thou, therefore, also taste, that equal lot 
May join us, equal joy, as equal love; 
Lest, thou not tasting, different degree 
Disjoin us, and I then too late renounce 
Deity for thee, when fate will not permit." 

Thus Eve with countenance blithe her story told; 
But in her cheek distemper flushing glowed. 
On the other side, Adam, soon as he heard 
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed, 
Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill 
Ran through his veins, and all his joints relaxed. 
From his slack hand the garland wreathed for Eve 
Down dropt, and all the faded roses shed. 
Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length 
First to himself he inward silence broke: — 

" O fairest of Creation, last and best 
Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled 
Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, 
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet ! 
How art thou lost ! how on a sudden lost. 
Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote ! 
Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgress 
The strict forbiddanre. how to violate 
The sacred Fruit forbidden? Some cursed fraud 
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown. 
And me with thee hath ruined ; for with thee 
Certain my resolution is to die. 
How can I live without thee? how forgo 
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined. 
To live again in these wild woods forlorn? 



BOOK IX PARADISE LOST 287 

Should God create another Eve, and I 
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee 
Would never from my heart. No, no ! I feci 
The link of nature draw me : flesh of flesh, 
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state 
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe." 

So having said, as one from sad dismay 
Recomforted, and, after thoughts disturbed. 
Submitting to what seemed remediless, 
Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turned : — 

" Bold deed thou hast presumed, advcntrous Eve, 
And peril great provoked, who thus hast dared 
Had it been only coveting to eye 
That sacred Food, sacred to abstinence ; 
Much more to taste it, under ban to touch. 
But past who can recall, or done undo? 
Not God Omnipotent, nor Fate ! Yet so 
Perhaps thou shalt not die ; perhaps the fact 
Is not so hainous now — foretasted Fruit, 
Profaned first by the Serpent, by him first 
Made common and unhallowed ere our taste, 
Nor yet on him found deadly. He yet lives — 
Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live, as Man, 
Higher degree of life : inducement strong 
To us, as likely, tasting, to attain 
Proportional ascent ; which cannot be 
But to be Gods, or Angels, Demi-gods. 
Nor can I think that God, Creator wise, 
Though threatening, will in earnest so destroy 
Us, his prime creatures, dignified so high. 
Set over all his works ; which, in our fall, 
For us created, needs with us must fail. 
Dependent made. So God shall uncreate, 
Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour lose — 
Not well conceived of God ; who, though his power 
Creation could repeat, yet would be loth 
Us to abolish, lest the Adversary 
Triumph and say: 'Fickle their state whom God 
Most favours; who can please him long? Me first 
He ruined, now Mankind; whom will he next?' — 



288 JOHN MILTON BOOK ix 

Matter of scorn not to be given the Foe. 
However, I with thee have fixed my lot, 
Certain to undergo like doom. If death 
Consort with thee, death is to me as life ; 
So forcible within my heart I feel 
The bond of Nature draw me to my own — 
My own is thee ; for what thou art is mine. 
Our state cannot be severed; we are one, 
One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself." 

So Adam; and thus Eve to him replied: — 
" O glorious trial of exceeding love, 
Illustrious evidence, example high ! 
Ingaging me to emulate ; but, short 
Of thy perfection, how shall I attain, 
Adam? from whose dear side I boast me sprung, 
And gladly of our union hear thee speak. 
One heart, one soul in both ; whereof good proof 
This day affords, declaring thee resolved. 
Rather than death, or aught than death more dread, 
Shall separate us., linked in love so dear. 
To undergo with me one guilt, one crime, 
If any be, of tasting this fair Fruit ; 
Whose virtue (for of good still good proceeds. 
Direct, or by occasion) hath presented 
This happy trial of thy love, which else 
So eminently never had been known. 
Were it I thought death menaced would ensue 
This my attempt, I would sustain alone 
The worst, and not persuade thee — rather die 
Deserted than oblige thee with a fact 
Pernicious to thy peace, chiefly assured 
Remarkably so late of thy so true. 
So faithful love unequalled. But I feel 
Far otherwise the event — not death, but life 
Augmented, opened eyes, new hopes, new joys. 
Taste so divine that what of sweet before 
Hath touched my sense flat seems to this and harsh. 
On my experience, Adam, freely taste. 
And fear of death deliver to the winds." 

So saying, she embraced him, and for joy 



BOOK IX PARADISE LOST 289 

Tenderly wept, much won that he his love 

Had so ennobled as of choice to incur 

Divine displeasure for her sake, or death. 

In recompense (for such compliance bad 

Such recompense best merits), from the bough 

She gave him of that fair enticing Fruit 

With liberal hand. He scrupled not to eat, 

Against his better knowledge, not deceived. 

But fondly overcome with female charm. 

Earth trembled from her entrails, as again 

In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan ; 

Sky loured, and, muttering thunder, some sad drops 

Wept at completing of the mortal Sin 

Original ; while Adam took no thought, 

Eating his fill, nor Eve to iterate 

Her former trespass feared, the more to soothe 

Him with her loved society ; that now, 

As with new wine intoxicated both. 

They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel 

Divinity within them breeding wings 

Wherewith to scorn the Earth. But that false Fruit 

Far other operation first displayed. 

Carnal desire inflaming. He on Eve 

Began to cast lascivious eyes ; she him 

As wantonly repaid ; in lust they burn, 

Till Adam thus 'gan Eve to dalliance move: — 

" Eve, now I see thou art exact of taste 
And elegant — of sapience no small part ; 
Since to each meaning savour we apply. 
And palate call judicious. I the praise 
Yield thee ; so well this day thou hast purveyed. 
Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstained 
From this delightful Fruit, nor known till now 
True relish, tasting. If such pleasure be 
In things to us forbidden, it might be wished 
For this one Tree had been forbidden ten. 
But come ; so well refreshed, now let us play. 
As meet is. after such delicious fare ; 
For never did thy beauty, since the day 
I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorned 



290 JOHN MIl.TON hook ix 

Willi ;ill pi'itoi-liims, so I'lillamo iiiv souse 

Willi aiiliMir It) iiijov tlu'i', fniror now 

'Til. Ill r\ir boiiiiU' of lliis viiiiioiis Tirr ! " 

So sail! ho, ami foilmro not _t;lain.\' or toy 
Of amorous iiiU'iil, woll uiuKMstood 
Of K\c, whoso oyo ilartod oonla.i;ioiis fire. 
1 lor haiul ho seized, and to a shady hank. 
Thick overhead willi vordanl roof inihow orod, 
lie led her, nolhiiii; lolh; llowors wore tlu- ooneh, 
Pansios, and violets, and asphoilol. 
And hyai-iiilh h'arth's froshost, softest lap. 
riii'io llio\' llu'ir fill of l(i\o aiul Iono's disport 
'Took larj^oly, o\ llu-ir ninlnal i;ii''l •'"•> seal, 
The solace of their sin, till dowv sleep 
(Oppressed them, wearied with their amorous play. 

Soon as the force of that fallacious h^-tiit, 
riial with exhilarating;' vapour Maud 
Alxuil their spirits had played, and iiunost powers 
Made err, was now exhaled, ami (grosser sleep, 
l'.i\'d ol nnkiiullv liiuu's, with conscious tlroams 
1 iiciiiiiliered, now had left ihem, up thov rose 
.'\s ivom niirost, and. each tlie other viowiui;. 
Soon found Ihoir eyes how opened, and their minds 
llow darkened ImuK-onco, that as a veil 
Had siKulowed them from knowiiii; ill, was gone; 
liisl conlidenco. and native rij^hteoiisness, 
Aiul honour, i\on\ ahoul them, n.aked left 
To }j[nilty Shame: ho covered, luit his vohc 
Ihicovered more. So rose the Panito stronj:^, 
llorcidean Samson, from the liaiiol l.i|) 
Of rhilist.ean Dalilah. atul wakeil 
Shorn of his streni;th; they destitute and iiaro 
(tf all their virtue. Silent, and in face 
Confouiuloil, louQ- they s;it, as strucken mute; 
Till Adam, thouiih not loss than Ivvo al>ashed. 
At K-iiL^th qave utterance to those words constrained: — 

" O I'Ao, in evil hour thou ilid.st give ear 
To that false Worm, of whomsiuwor taught 
To connlerfoit Man's voice true in our fall, 
h'alse in our promised rising': since our eyes 



: IX rAKAIMSl-; IX)ST 201 

r)|)cnc(l wc fiiul indeed, and find we know 
IU)th Kood and evil, j^ood lost and c-vil }j;ot ; 
I'.ad Fruit of Knowledge, if lliis lie to know, 
Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void, 
Of foul concu])iscencc; whence evil stoic, 
Our wf)n(ed ornanients now soiled and stained. 
And in our faces evident the sif^jns 
Of fold concupiscence; whence evil store, 
Even shame, the last of evils; of the first 
Be sure then. How sliall 1 Ix h<ild llu- face 
Henceforth of God or Aii};el, erst with joy 
And rapture so oft heheld? Those Heavenly Shapes 
Will dazzle now this earthly with their hla/.e 
Insufferahly hrij^dit. Oh, iiii},,dit I lure 
In solitude live savaj^e, in some j^ladc 
Ohscured, where hif^hest woods, imix'iictrahle 
'l\) star or sunlij^Iit, spread their umhraf^e hroad, 
And hrown as eveniiifj. Cover me, ye ])ines! 
Ye cedars, with ininmierahie honj^hs 
Hide me, where 1 may never see them more ! 
But let us now, as in had pliifht, devise 
What hest may, for the present, serve lo hide 
The parts of each other tliat seem most 
To shame ohnoxious, and unsecmliest seen - 
Some tree, whose hroad smooth leaves, tojjelher sewed, 
And girded on our loins, may cover round 
Those middle parts, that this new comer. Shame, 
There sit not, and reproach us as unclean." 
So counseHed he, and hoth to.q;ether went 
Into the thickest wood. 'I'here soon they choose 
The fig tree — n(jt that kind for fruit renowned. 
But such as, at this day, to Indians known. 
In Malahar or Decan spreads her arms 
I'.raunching so hroad and long that in the grriund 
1'he hended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
About the mother tree, a pillared shade 
High overarched, and echoing walks hetween: 
There (jft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat. 
Shelters in cool, and tends his paslm-iiig h<;rds 
At loop-hules cut lhr(jugh thickest shade. Those leaves 



292 .JOHN Mli;i"()N ii(H»K i\ 

'V\\rv i^.itluMtMl, l)i();i(l ;is AiiKi/oiiian t:ii"_m', 

Ami with wlKit skill llu\y had to^otlu-r sowed, 

To j;inl (luMr waist — vain CDVoriiiLj, if Id hide 

'riuMT i;iiiU and droaded shanir ! O liow iiidiko 

To that Hrst nakod _t;lorv ! Siirli nl' lalo 

("oluinhns fonnd Iho American, so };iii 

With feathered einetiire. naked else and wild, 

Amontj the trees on isles and woody shores. 

Thus feneed, and. as they lho>ti;ht, their shame in pail 

Covered, hnt not at lesl or ease of mind, 

'i'hey sal them down to weep. Nor oidy (ears 

Kainod ai (heir eyes, hnt liij;h winds worse within 

I>i'L;an to rise, hij^h passions- answer, ha(e, 

Mistrnsl. snspieion, discord — and shook sore 

'IMieir inward state of mind, calm region once 

And fidl of pe.'ice, now lost and (nrhnlent: 

For Understandinjj rnlcd not, .and the Will 

Heard not her lore, hoth in snhjeetion now 

'i'o si'nsual AiiiH'tite. who, from heneatli 

Usm"pin^ over sovran Reason, claimed 

Sni>erior sway. From (hus distempered breast 

Adam, estrani^ed in look and .altered style. 

Speech inti-rmitted thus to h'.ve renewed :-- 

" W (udd Ihon hadsl heaikeiied to my words, and stayed 
With mi-, as 1 hesont^ht thee, when that strani;e 
Desire oi wandering;, (his utdiappy morn, 
I know not whence possessed thee! We hail then 
Remained still happy not, as now, ilcspoilcd 
Of all onr j;(Hh1, shanied, naked, miserahle ! 
J.et none henceforth seek neeilless canse to approve 
The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek 
Such proof, conchule they then he.^in to fail." 

'\'o whom, soon moved with loneh of hlame, llnis 
I've: 
" W hat words have passed thv lips, Adam severe? 
Impnl'sl tlion thai to my default, or will 
Of wanderin;;, as thou call'st it, which who knows 
Hnt mi^ht .is ill have happened tlion heini;- by, 
(")r to thyself perhaps? lladsl thou heen (here, 
Ov here the attempt, thou eouldst not have discerned 



)K fx PARADISE LOST Zy3 

I'' laud ill llic Serpent, spi-akiiij,' as lie spake; 
No .t^roiiixl of I'liinity Ixtwecn us known 
VVIiy lie slunild mean inc ill or seek to harm. 
Was I to have never parted from thy side? 
As j,'o(nl have jjrown there still, a lifeless rib, 
I'eiiij^ as 1 am, why didst not thou, the Head, 
Command mc ahsolutely not to jj;o, 
Goin^ into such danger, as thou saidst? 
Too facile then, thou didst not much gainsay, 
Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss, 
lladst thou heen firm and fixed in thy dissent. 
Neither had 1 transgressed, nor thou with me." 

To whom, then first incensed, Adam replied: — 
" Is this the love, is this the recompense 
Of mine to thee, ingrateful l"!ve, expressed 
Immutahle when thou wert lost, not I — 
Who might have lived, and joyed immortal bliss, 
Yet willingly chcjse rather death with thee? 
And am 1 now U|;braided as the cause 
Of thy transgressing? not enough severe. 
It seems, in thy restraint I What could I more? 
I warned thee, I admonished thee, foretold 
The danger, and the lurking luiemy 
That lay in wait; beyond this had been force. 
And force upon free will hath here no place. 
Hut confidence then bore thee on, secure 
I'Jther to meet no danger, or to find 
Matter of ghjrious trial; aii<l perhaps 
I also erred in ovennuch admiring 
What seemed in thee so perfet that I thought 

No evil durst attempt thee. Hut I rue 

That error now, which is become my crime. 

And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befall 

Ilini who, to worth in women overtrustiiig, 

Lets her will rule: restraint she will not brook; 

And, left to herself, if evil thence ensue, 

.She first his weak indulgence will accuse." 
Thus they in mutual accusation spent 

The fruitless hours, but neither .self-condemning; 

And of their vain contest' appeared no end. 
B nciv 



294 JOHN MILTON book x 



THE TENTH BOOK 

The Argument. — Man's transgression known, the guardian Angels 
forsake Paradise, and return up to Heaven to approve their vigilance, 
and are approved ; God declaring that the entrance of Satan could 
not be by them prevented. He sends his Son to judge the Trans- 
gressors; who descends, and gives sentence accordingly; then, in 
pity, clothes them both, and reascends. Sin and Death, sitting till 
then at the gates of Hell, by wondrous sympathy feeling the success 
of Satan in this new World, and the sin by Man there committed, 
resolve to sit no longer confined in Hell, but to follow Satan, their 
sire, up to the place of Man : to make the way easier from Hell to 
this World to and fro, they pave a broad highway or bridge over 
Chaos, according to the track that Satan first made ; then, preparing 
for Earth, they meet him, proud of his success, returning to Hell ; 
their mutual gratulation. Satan arrives at Pandemonium ; in full 
assembly relates, with boasting, his success against Man ; instead of 
applause is entertained with a general hiss by all his audience, trans- 
formed, with himself also, suddenly into Serpents, according to his 
doom given in Paradise ; then, deluded with a shew of the For- 
bidden Tree springing up before them, they, greedily reaching to 
take of the Fruit, chew dust and bitter ashes. The proceedings of 
Sin and Death : God foretells the final victory of his Son over them, 
and the renewing of all things ; but, for the present, commands his 
Angels to make several alterations in the Heavens and Elements. 
Adam, more and more perceiving his fallen condition, heavily be- 
wails, rejects the condolement of Eve; she persists, and at length 
appeases him : then, to evade the curse likely to fall on their off- 
spring, proposes to Adam violent ways ; which he approves not, but, 
conceiving better hope, puts her in mind of the late promise made 
them, that her seed should be revenged on the Serpent, and exhorts 
her, with him, to seek peace of the offended Deity by repentance 
and supplication. 

Meanwhile the hainous and despiteful act 

Of Satan done in Paradise, and how 

He, in the Serpent, had perverted Eve, 

Her husband she, to taste the fatal Fruit, 

Was known in Heaven ; for what can scape the eye 

Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart 

Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just, 

Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind 

Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed 

Complete to have discovered and repulsed 

Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend. 



BOOK J. PARADISE LOST 295 

For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered, 
The high injunction not to taste that Fruit, 
Whoever tempted ; which they not obeying 
Incurred (what could they less?) the penalty, 
And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall. 
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste 
The Angelic Guards ascended, mute and sad 
For Man ; for of his state by this they knew, 
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen 
Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news 
♦ From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased 
All were who heard ; dim sadness did not spare 
That time celestial visages, yet, mixed 
With pity, violated not their bliss. 
About the new-arrived in multitudes, 
The Ethereal People ran, to hear and know 
How all befell. They towards the Throne supreme. 
Accountable, made haste, to make appear. 
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance. 
And easily approved ; when the Most High, 
Eternal Father, from his secret Cloud 
Amidst, in thunder uttered thus his voice : — 

" Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned 
From unsuccessful charge, be not dismayed 
Nor troubled at these tidings from the Earth, 
Which your sincerest care could not prevent. 
Foretold so lately what would come to pass, 
When first this Tempter crossed the gulf from Hell. 
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed 
On his bad errand — Man should be seduced. 
And flattered out of all, believing lies 
Against his Maker ; no decree of mine, 
Concurring to necessitate his fall, 
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse 
His free will, to her own inclining left 
In even scale. But fallen he is ; and now 
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass 
On his transgression, Death denounced that day? 
Which he presumes already vain and void, 
Because not yet inflicted, as he feared. 



2% JOHN MILTON hook x 

Ry some inimodialo stroke, but soon sh;ill fiiul 

l''orl)oaranco no acciuittanco cro day end. 

Justice shall not return, as bounty, scorned. 

lUit whom send 1 to judge them? whom but thee, 

Vicejjcrent Son? To thcc 1 have transferred 

All judgment, whether in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell. 

Easy it may be seen that I intend 

Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee, 

Man's Friend, his Mediator, his designed 

Both Ransom and Redeemer voluntary. 

And destined Man himself to judge Man fallen." 

So spake the [''ather; and, unfolding bright 
Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son 
Blazed forth unclouded deity, lie full 
Resplendent all his Father manifest 
Expressed, and thus divinely answered mild : — 

" Father Eternal, thine is to decree ; 
!Mine both in Heaven and Earth to do thy will 
Supreme, that thou in me, thy Son beloved. 
]\lay'st ever rest well pleased. I go to judge 
On hearth these thy transgressors ; but thou knovv'st, 
Whoever jutlged, the worst on me must light, 
When time shall be ; for so I undertook 
Before thee, and, not repenting, this obtain 
Of right, that I may mitigate their doom 
On me derived. Yet I shall temper so 
Justice with mercy as may illustrate most 
Them fully satisfied, and thee appease. 
Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none 
Are to behold the judgment but the judged. 
Those two ; the third best absent is condemned, 
Convict by llight, and rebel to all law ; 
Conviction to the Serpent none belongs." 

Thus saying, from his radiant Seat he rose 
Of high collateral glory. Him Thrones and Powers, 
Princedoms, and Dominations ministrant. 
Accompanied to Heaven-gate, from whence 
Eden anil all the coast in prospect lay. 
Down he descended straight: the speed of Gods 
Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes winged. 



BOOK X PARADISE LOST 297 

Now was the Sun in western cadence low 
From noon, and gentle airs due at their hour 
To fan the Earth now waked, and usher in 
The evening cool, when he, from wrauth more cool, 
Came, the mild Judge and Intercessor hoth, 
To sentence Man. The voice of God they heard 
Now walking in the Garden, by soft winds 
lirought to their cars, while day declined; they heard, 
And from his presence hid themselves among 
'J'he thickest trees, both man and wife, till God, 
Approaching, thus to Adam called aloud: — 

" Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meet 
My coming, seen far off? I miss thee here. 
Not pleased thus entertained, with solitude, 
Where obvious duty erewhile appeared unsought. 
Or come I less conspicuous, or what change 
Absents thee, or what chance detains? Come forth ! " 

He came, and with him Eve, more loth, though first 
To offend, discountenanced both, and discomposed. 
Love was not in their looks, either to (Jod 
Or to each other, but apparent guilt. 
And shame, and perturbation, and despair, 
Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. 
Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answered brief: — 

" I heard thee in the (jarden, and, of thy voice 
Afraid, being naked, hid myself." To whom 
The gracious Judge, without revile, replied: — 

" My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not feared. 
But still rejoiced; how is it now become 
So dreadful to thee? That thou art naked who 
Hath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the Tree 
Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat? " 
To whom thus Adam, sore beset, replied : — 

" O Heaven ! in evil strait this day I stand 
Before my Judge — either to unclergo 
Myself the total crime, or to accuse 
My other self, the partner of my life. 
Whose failing, while her faith to mc remains, 
I should conceal, and not expose to blame 
By my complaint. But strict necessity 



298 JOHN MILTON BOOK x 

Subdues me, and calamitous constraint, 
Lest qn my head both sin and punishment, 
However insupportable, be all 

Devolved ; though, should I hold my peace, yet thou 
. Wouldst easily detect what I conceal. 
^This Woman, whom thou mad'st to be my help. 
And gav'st me as thy perfet gift, so good, 
So fit, so acceptable, so divine, 
That from her hand I could suspect no ill, 
And what she did, whatever in itself, 
Her doing seemed to justify the deed — 
She gave me of the Tree, and I did cat." 
To whom the Sovran Presence thus replied: — 

" Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey 
Before his voice? or was she made thy guide, 
Superior, or but equal, that to her 
Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place 
Wherein God set thee above her, made of thee 
And for thee, whose perfection far excelled 
Hers in all real dignity? Adorned 
She was indeed, and lovely, to attract 
Thy love, not thy subjection; and her gifts 
Were such as under government well seemed — 
Unseemly to bear rule ; which was thy part 
And person, hadst thou known thyself aright." 

So having said, he thus to Eve in few : — 
" Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done ? " 

To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelmed, 
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge 
Bold or loquacious, thus abashed replied : — 
" The Serpent me beguiled, and I did eat." 

Which when the Lord God heard, without delay 
To judgment he proceeded on the accused 
Serpent, though brute, unable to transfer 
The guilt on him who made him instrument 
Of mischief, and polluted from the end 
Of his creation — justly then accursed. 
As vitiated in nature. More to know 
Concerned not Man (since he no further knew), 
Nor altered his offence ; yet God at last 



BOOK X PARADISE LOST 299 

To Satan, first in sin, his doom applied, 

Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best; 

And on the Serpent thus his curse let fall: — 

" Because thou hast done this, thou art accursed 
Above all cattle, each beast of the field; 
Upon thy belly grovelling thou shalt go. 
And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life. 
Between thee and the Woman I will put 
Enmity, and between thine and her seed ; 
Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel." 

So spake this oracle — then verified 
When Jesus, son of Mary, second Eve, 
Saw Satan fall like lightning down from Heaven, 
Prince of the Air; then, rising from his grave, 
Spoiled Principalities and Powers, triumphed 
In open shew, and, with ascension bright, 
Captivity led captive through the Air, 
The realm itself of Satan, long usurped, 
Whom He shall tread at last under our feet, 
Even He who now foretold his fatal bruise. 
And to the Woman thus his sentence turned : — 

" Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply 
By thy conception ; children thou shalt bring 
In sorrow forth, and to thy husband's will 
Thine shall submit; he over thee shall rule." 

On Adam last thus judgment he pronounced: — 
" Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife, 
And eaten of the Tree concerning which 
I charged thee, saying, Thou shalt not cat thereof, 
Curs'd is the ground for thy sake ; thou in sorrow 
Shalt eat thereof all the days of thy life ; 
Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth 
Unbid ; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field ; 
In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread. 
Till thou return unto the ground ; for thou 
Out of the ground wast taken : know thy birth, 
For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return." 

So judged he Man, both Judge and Saviour sent, 
And the instant stroke of death, denounced that day, 
Removed far off ; then, pitying how they stood 



300 JOHN MILTON HODK X 

Before him nakoil to the air. that now 

Must sulYcr chaiii^o. disdainccl not to begin 

Thenceforth the form of servant to assume. 

As when he \vaslied his servants' feet, so now, 

As Father of his family, he clad 

Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain, 

Or, as the snako. with youthful coat repaid; 

Anil thought not nuich to clothe his enemies. 

Nor he their outward only with the skins 

Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more 

Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness 

Arraying-, covered from his Father's sight. 

To him with swift ascent he up returned, 

Into his blissful bosom reassumed 

In glory as of old ; to him, appeased. 

All. though all-knowing, what had passctl with Man 

Recounteil, mixing intercession sweet. 

^Meanwhile, ere thus was simied and judged on Earth, 
Within the gates of Hell sat Sin and Death, 
In counterview within the gates, that now 
Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame 
Far into Chaos, since the Fiend passed through, 
Sin opening; who thus now to Death began: — 

" O Son, why sit we here, each other viewing 
Idly, while Satan, our great author, thrives 
In other worlds, and happier seat provides 
For us. his otTspring dear? It cannot be 
But that success attends him ; if mishap 
Ere this he had returned, with fury driven 
By his Avengers, since no place like this 
Can fit his punishment, or their revenge. 
Methinks I feel new strength within me rise. 
Wings growing, and dominion given me large 
Beyond this Deep — whatever draws me on, 
Or sympathy, or some connatural force, 
Powerful at greatest distance to unite 
With secret amity things of like kind 
By seeretest conveyance. Thou, my shade 
Inseparable, must with me along ; 
For Death from Sin no power can separate. 



UOOK X PARADISIC LOST 301 

I'lUt, lest the (lifliculty rjf pnssiiif^ hack 
Stay his return perhaps over this gulf 
Inij)assable, impervious, let us try 
(Adventrous work, yet to thy power and mine 
Not unagreeable!) to found a jiath 
Over this Main from Hell to that new World 
Where Satan now prevails — a monument 
Of merit high to all the infernal Host, 
Easing their passage hence, for intercourse 
Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead. 
Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn 
By this new-felt attraction and instinct." 

Whom thus the meagre Shadow answered soon : — 
" Go whither fate and inclination strong 
Leads thee; I shall not lag behind, nor err 
The way, thou leading: such a scent I draw 
Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste 
The savour of death from all things there that live. 
Nor shall I do the work thou enterprisest 
Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid." 

So saying, with delight he snuffed the smell 
Of mortal change on liarth. As when a flock 
Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote, 
Against the day of battle, to a field 
Where armies lie encamped come flying, lured 
With scent of living carcases designed 
For death the following day in bloody fight; 
So scented the grim T-'eature, and upturned 
His nostril wide into the murky air, 
•Sagacious of his quarry from so far. 
Then both, from out Hell-gates, into the waste 
Wide anarchy of Chaos, damp and dark, 
I<"lew diverse, and, with power (their power was 

great) 
Hovering upon the waters, what they met 
Solid or slimy, as in raging sea 
Tossed up and down, together crowded drove, 
From each side shoaling, towards the moulh of Hell; 
As when two ]X)lar winds, blowing adverse 
Upon the C'ronian sea, together drive 



302 JOHN MILTON book x 

Mountains of ice, that stop the imagined way 

Beyond Petsora eastward to the rich 

Cathaian coast. The aggregated soil 

Death with his mace petrific, cold and dry. 

As with a trident smote, and fixed as firm 

As Delos, floating once; the rest his look 

Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move. 

And with asphaltic slime; broad as the gate. 

Deep to the roots of Hell the gathered beach 

They fastened, and the mole immense wraught on 

Over the foaming Deep high-arched, a bridge 

Of length prodigious, joining to the wall 

Immovable of this now fenceless World, 

Forfeit to Death — from hence a passage broad, 

Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to Hell. 

So, if great things to small may be compared, 

Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke. 

From Susa, his Memnonian palace high. 

Came to the sea, and, over Hellespont 

Bridging his way, Europe with Asia joined. 

And scourged with many a stroke the indignant waves. 

Now had they brought the work by wondrous art 

Pontifical — a ridge of pendent rock 

Over the vexed Abyss, following the track 

Of Satan, to the self-same place where he 

First lighted from his wing and landed safe 

From out of Chaos — to the outside bare 

Of this round World. With pins of adamant 

And chains they made all fast, too fast they made 

And durable ; and now in little space 

The confines met of empyrean Heaven 

And of this World, and on the left hand Hell, 

With long reach interposed ; three several ways 

In sight of each of these three places led. 

And now their way to Earth they had descried, 

To Paradise first tending, when, behold 

Satan, in likeness of an Angel bright. 

Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steering 

His zenith, while the Sun in Aries rose ! 

Disguised he came; but those his children dear 



BOOK X PARADISE LOST 303 

Their parent soon discerned, though in disguise. 

He, after Eve seduced, unminded slunk 

Into the wood fast by, and, changing shape 

To observe the sequel, saw^ his guileful act 

By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded 

Upon her husband — saw their shame that sought 

Vain covertures ; but, when he saw descend 

The Son of God to judge them, terrified 

He fled, not hoping to escape, but shun 

The present — fearing, guilty, what his wrauth 

Might suddenly inflict; that past, returned 

By night, and, listening where the hapless pair 

Sat in their sad discourse and various plaint. 

Thence gathered his own doom ; which understood 

Not instant, but of future time, with joy 

And tidings fraught, to Hell he now returned. 

And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot 

Of this new wondrous pontifice, unhoped 

Met who to meet him came, his offspring dear. 

Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight 

Of that stupendious bridge his joy encreased. 

Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair 

Inchanting daughter, thus the silence broke : — 

" O Parent, these are thy magnific deeds, 
Thy trophies ! which thou view'st as not thine own ; 
Thou art their Author and prime Architect. 
For I no sooner in my heart divined 
(My heart, which by a secret harmony 
Still moves with thine, joined in connexion sweet) 
That thou on Earth hadst prospered, which thy looks 
Now also evidence, but straight I felt — 
Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt — 
That I must after thee with this thy son ; 
Such fatal consequence unites us three. 
Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds. 
Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure 
Detain from following thy illustrious track. 
Thou hast achieved our liberty, confined 
Within Hell-gates till now ; thou us impowered 
To fortify thus far, and overlay 



304 JOHN Mll.TON book X 

With this portentous hridi;o tlio dark Ahvss. 

Thitio tiow is all this Worlil ; thy virtue hath won 

What thy hands buikled not; thy wisdom gained. 

With odds, what war hath lost, and fully aveui^ed 

Our foil in Heaven. Here thou shalt Monarch rei^ti. 

There didst not; there let hin\ still victor sway. 

As battle hath adjudged, from this new World 

Retiring, by his own tloom alienated. 

And henceforth monarchy with thee divide 

Of all things, parted by the empyreal bounds, 

His quadrature, from thy orbicular W'l^rld. 

Or try thee now more dangerous to his Throne.'' 

Whom thus the Prince of Oarktiess answered glad: — 
" Fair daughter, and thou, son and grandchild both, 
High proof ye now have given to be the race 
Of Satan (for I glory in the name. 
Antagonist of Heaven's Almighty King), 
Amply have merited of me, of all 
The Infernal Kmpire. that so near Heaven's door 
Triumphal with triumphal act have met. 
Mine with this glorious work, and made one realm 
Hell and this World — one realm, one continent 
Of easy thoroughfare. Therefore, while I 
Descend through Darkness, on your road with ease. 
To my associate Powers, them to acquaint 
With these successes, and with them rejoice 
You two this way. among these tunnerous orbs. 
All yours, right down to Paradise descend ; 
There dwell and reign in bliss : thence oi\ the Karth 
Dominion exercise and in the air. 
Chiefly on Man. sole lord of all dedarcil ; 
Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill. 
My substitutes I send ye. and create 
Plenipotent on Earth, of matchless might 
Issuing from me. On your joint vigour now 
My hold of this new kingdom all depends. 
Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit. 
If your joint power prevail, the affairs of Hell 
No detriment need fear; go. and be strong." 

So saying, he dismissed them ; they with speed 



MiLton X Cottage, 

Chc^ont St. Giles, from the garden 

The only house nom standing 

in nhich Milton is known to have lived 



^L^ii -Xi^- 



nooK X PARADISE LOST 305 

Their course through thickest constellations held. 

Spreading their bane ; the blasted stars looked wan, 

And planets, planet-strook, real eclipse 

Then suffered. The other way Satan went down 

The causey to Hell-gate; on either side 

Disparted Chaos overbuilt exclaimed. 

And with rebounding surge the bars assailed, 

That scorned his indignation. Through the gate, 

Wide open and unguarded, Satan passed, 

And all about found desolate; for those 

Appointed to sit there had left their charge. 

Flown to the upper World ; the rest were all 

Far to the inland retired, about the walls 

Of Pandemonium, city and proud seat 

Of Lucifer, so by allusion called 

Of that bright star to Satan paragoned. 

There kept their watch the legions, while the Grand 

In council sat, solicitous what chance 

Might intercept their Emperor sent; so he 

Departing gave command, and they observed. 

As when the Tartar from his Russian foe. 

By Astracan, over the snowy plains, 

Retires, or Bactrian Sophi, from the horns 

Of Turkish crescent, leaves all waste beyond 

The realm of Aladule, in his retreat 

To Tauris or Casbeen ; so these, the late 

Heaven-banished host, left desert utmost Hell 

Many a dark league, reduced in careful watch 

Round their Metropolis, and now expecting 

Each hour their great Adventurer from the search 

Of foreign worlds. He through the midst unmarked, 

In shew plebeian Angel militant 

Of lowest order, passed, and, from the door 

Of that Plutonian hall, invisible 

Ascended his high Throne, which, under state 

Of richest texture spread, at the upper end 

Was placed in regal lustre. Down a while 

He sat, and round about him saw, unseen. 

At last, as from a cloud, his fulgent head 

And shape star-bright appeared, or brighter, clad 



306 JOHN MILTON book X 

With what permissive glory since his fall 
Was left hira. or false glitter. All amazed 
At that so sudden blaze, the Stygian throng 
Bent their aspect, and whom they wished beheld, 
Their mighty Chief returned: loud was the acclaim. 
Forth rushed in haste the great consulting Peers, 
Raised from their dark Divan, and with like joy 
Congratulant approached him, who with hand 
Silence, and with these words attention, won : — 
" Thrones. Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, 
Powers ! — 
For in possession such, not only of right, 
I call ye, and declare ye now, returned. 
Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth 
Triumphant out of this infernal Pit 
Abominable, accursed, the house of woe, 
And dungeon of our tyrant ! Now possess. 
As lords, a spacious World, to our native Heaven 
Little inferior, by my adventure hard 
With peril great achieved. Long were to tell 
What I have done, what suffered, with what pain 
Voyaged the unreal, vast, unbounded Deep 
Of horrible confusion — over which 
By Sin and Death a broad way now is paved. 
To expedite your glorious march ; but I 
Toiled out my uncouth passage, forced to ride 
The untractable Abyss, plunged in the womb 
Of vmoriginal Night and Chaos wild. 
That, jealous of their secrets, fiercely opposed 
My journey strange, with clamorous uproar 
Protesting Fate supreme ; thence how I found 
The new-created World, which fame in Heaven 
Long had foretold, a fabric wonderful, 
Of absolute perfection ; therein Man 
Placed in a Paradise, by our exile 
Made happy. Him by fraud I have seduced 
From his Creator, and, the more to increase 
Your wonder, with an apple ! He, thereat 
Offended — worth your laughter ! — hath given up 
Both his beloved Man and all his World 



BOOK X 



PARADISE LOST 307 



To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, 

Without our hazard, labour, or alarm. 

To range in, and to dwell, and over Man 

To rule, as over all he should have ruled. 

True is, me also he hath judged; or rather 

Me not, but the brute Serpent, in whose shape 

Man I deceived. That which to me belongs 

Is enmity, which he will put between 

Me and Mankind : I am to bruise his heel ; 

His seed— when is not set— shall bruise my head ! 

A world who would not purchase with a bruise, 

Or much more grievous pain ? Ye have the account 

Of my performance ; what remains, ye Gods, 

But up and enter now into full bliss? " 

So having said, a while he stood, expecting 
Their universal shout and high applause 
To fill his ear ; when, contrary, he hears. 
On all sides, from innumerable tongues 
A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
Of public scorn. He wondered, but not long 
Had leisure, wondering at himself now more. 
His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare. 
His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining 
Each other, till, supplanted, down he fell, 
A monstrous serpent on his belly prone,. 
Reluctant, but in vain ; a greater power 
Now ruled him, punished in the shape he sinned. 
According to his doom. He would have spoke, 
But hiss for hiss returned with forked tongue 
To forked tongue ; for now were all transformed 
Alike, to serpents all, as accessories 
. To his bold riot. Dreadful was the din 
Of hissing through the hall, thick-swarming now 
With complicated monsters, head and tail — 
Scorpion, and Asp. and Amphisbaena dire. 
Cerastes horned, Hydrus, and Ellops drear, 
And Dipsas (not so thick swarmed once the soil 
Bedropt with blood of Gordon, or the isle 
Ophiusa) ; but still greatest the midst, 
Now Dragon grown, larger than whom the Sun 



308 JOHN MILTON book x 

Ingcndercd in the Pythian vale on sh'me, 

Huge Python ; and his power no less he seemed 

Above the rest still to retain. They all 

Him followed, issuing forth to the open field, 

Where all yet left of that revolted rout, 

Pleaven-f alien, in station stood or just array, 

Sublime with expectation when to see 

In triumph issuing forth their glorious Chief. 

They saw, but other sight instead — a crowd 

Of ugly serpents ! Horror on them fell, 

And horrid sympathy ; for what they saw 

They felt themselves now changing. Down their arms, 

Down fell both spear and shield ; down they as fast. 

And the dire hiss renewed, and the dire form 

Catched by contagion, like in punishment 

As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meant 

Turned to exploding hiss, triumph to shame 

Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There 

stood 
A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change, 
His will who reigiis above, to aggravate 
Their penance, laden with fair fruit, like that 
Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve 
Used by the Tempter. On that prospect strange 
Their earnest eyes they fixed, imagining 
For one forbidden tree a multitude 
Now risen, to work them furder woe or shame ; 
Yet, parched with scalding thirst and hunger fierce 
Though to delude them sent, could not abstain. 
But on they rowled in heaps, and. up the trees 
Climbing, sat thicker than the snaky locks 
That curled Megaera. Greedily they plucked 
The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew 
Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed; 
This, more delusive, not the touch, but taste 
Deceived ; they fondly thinking to allay 
Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit 
Chewed bitter ashes, which the offended taste 
With spattering noise rejected. Oft they assayed. 
Hunger and thirst constraining ; drugged as oft, 



BOOK X PARADISE LOST 309 

With hatefulest disrelish writhed their jaws 

With soot and cinder fdlcd ; so oft they fell 

Into the same illusion, not as Man 

Whom they triumphed' once lapsed. Thus were they 

plagued, 
And, worn with famine, long and ceaseless hiss. 
Till their lost shape, permitted, they resumed — 
Yearly enjoined, some say, to undergo 
This annual humbling certain numbered days, 
To dash their pride, and joy for Man seduced. 
However, some tradition they dispersed 
Among the Heathen of their purchase got, 
And fabled how the Serpent, whom they called 
Ophion, with Eurynome (the wide- 
Encroaching Eve perhaps), had first the rule 
Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven 
And Ops, ere yet Dictaean Jove was born. 

Meanwhile in Paradise the Hellish pair 
Too soon arrived — Sin, there in power before 
Once actual, now in body, and to dwell 
Habitual habitant ; behind her Death, 
Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet 
On his pale horse ; to whom Sin thus began : — 

" Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death ! 
What think'st thou of our empire now? though earned 
With travail difficult, not better far 
Than still at Hell's dark threshold to have sat watch. 
Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half-starved ? " 

Whom thus the Sin-born Monster answered soon : — 
" To me, who with eternal famine pine, 
Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven — 
There best where most with ravin I may meet : 
Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems 
To stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corpse." 

To whom the incestuous Mother thus replied : — 
" Thou, therefore, on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers, 
Feed first; on each beast next, and fish, and fowl — 
No homely morsels ; and whatever thing 
The scythe of Time mows down devour unspared ; 
Till I, in Man residing through the race, 

X HCIV 



310 JOHN MILTON book x 

His thoug'hts, his looks, words, actions, all infect, 
And season him thy last and sweetest prey." 

This said, they both betook them several ways, 
Roth to destroy, or iinimniortal make 
All kinds, and for destruction to mature 
Sooner or later; which the Alniij^hty seeing, 
h^rom his transcendent Seat the Saints among. 
To those bright Orders uttered thus his voice: — 

" See with what heat these dogs of ITell advance 
To waste and havoc yonder World, which I 
So fair and good created, and had still 
Kept in that state, had not the folly of Man 
Let in these wasteful furies, who impute 
Folly to me (so doth the Prince of I Tell 
And his adherents), that with so much ease 
I suffer them to enter and possess 
A ]ilacc so heavenly, and, conniving, seem 
To gratify my scornful enemies. 
That laugh, as if, transported with some fit 
Of passion, I to them had quitted all. 
At random yielded up to their misrule ; 
And know not that I called and drew them thither, 
My ITcll-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth 
Which Man's polluting sin with taint hath shed 
On what was pure ; till, crammed and gorged, nigh burst 
\Vith sucked and glutted offal, at one sling 
Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son, 
Both Sin and Death, and yawning Grave, at last 
Through Chaos hurled, obstruct the mouth of Hell 
For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. 
Then Heaven and Earth, renewed, shall he made pure 
To sanctity that shall receive no stain : 
Till then the curse pronounced on both precedes." 

He ended, and the Heavenly Audience loud 
Sung Halleluiah, as the sound of seas. 
Through multitude that sung: — " Just are thy ways, 
Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works; 
Who can extenuate thee? Next, to the Son, 
Destined restorer of Mankind, by whom 
New Heaven and Earth shall to the ages rise. 



nooK X PARADISE LOST 311 

Or down from Ilcavcn dcscctul." Such was (Iioir song, 

While the Creator, calhng forth l)y name 

His mijjhty Angels, gave theiu .several charge, 

As sorted hcst with present things. The Sun 

Had first his ])recept so to move, so shine, 

As might affect the Earth with cold and heat 

Scarce tolerahle, and from the north to call 

Decrepit winter, from the south to hring 

Solstitial summer's heat. To the hlanc Moon 

Her office they prescrihcd ; to the other five 

Their planetary motions and aspects'. 

In sextile, scpiare, and trine, and opp(jsite, 

Of noxious efficacy, and when to join 

In synod unhenign ; and taught the fixed 

Their infiuence malignant when to shower — 

Which of them, rising with the Sun or falling. 

Should prove tempestuous. To the winds they set 

Their corners, when with hlustcr to confouiKl 

Sea, air, and shore; the thunder when to roll 

With terror through the dark aerial hall. 

Some say he hid his Angels turn askance 

'J'he poles of Earth twice ten degrees and more 

Erom the Sun's axle; they with lahour pushed 

Ohli(|ue the centric (jlohe: some say the Sun 

Was hid turn reins from the eipiinoctial road 

Like distant hrcadth — to Taurus with the seven 

Atlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins, 

Up tf) the Tropic Crah; thence down amain 

P.y ]^eo, and the Virgin, and the Scales, 

As deep as Capricorn ; to hring in change 

Of seasons to each clime. IClse had the s])ring 

Eerpetual smiled on ICarth with vernant llowers, 

lupial in days and nights, except (o those 

Beyond the polar circles; to them day 

Had unhenighted shon, while the low Sun, 

To recompense his distance, in their sight 

Had rounded still the horizon, and not known 

Or east or west — which had fcjrhid the snow 

From cold Estotiland, and south as far 

Beneath Magellan. At that tasted Emit, 



312 JOHN MILTON noOK X 

Tlic Sun, ns from Tliyi-stran Iiaiuiurl, lunicd 

I lis idiirso inU'iKlod; I'lso Ikuv had (Iio world 

Jnlial)itc"d, llimi!;li sinless, iiioro liiaii now 

Avoided pinoluii!^- cold and scon.-liin,!4- lioal ? 

Those chans^os in the heavens, thonj^h slow, produced 

Like chani;e on sea and land— sidenal blast, 

Vai)onr, and niisl, and exhalation hot. 

Corrupt ant! pestilent. Now from the uorlli 

Of Noruiubega, and the Sanioed shore, 

Hurstins^ their brazen dunjjcon, armed with ice, 

And snow, anil hail, and stormy gust and Haw, 

jioreas and C';ecias and Argestes loud 

And Thrascias rend the woods, anil seas upturn; 

With adverse blasts upturns them from the south 

Nolus and Afer, black with thundrous cUnuls 

I'^rom Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierce 

l'\)rlh rush the I.evant and the roncnt winds, 

Kurus and Zephyr, with their lateral noise. 

Sirocco and Libccchio. Thus began 

Outrage from lifeless things; but Discord first, 

]")aughter of v^in. ;imong the irrational 

]X\'ith introduced through iierce antipathy. 

Beast now with beast 'gan war. and fowl with fowl, 

Ami lish with lish. To graze the herb all leaving" 

l^evonred each other; nor siooi.] much in awe 

Of Man, but lied him, or with countenance grim 

(ilari-d on him passing. These were from without 

The growing miseries; which Adam saw 

Already in part, though hiil in gloomiest shade, 

To sorrow abandoned, but worse fell within. 

And, in a troubled sea of passion tost. 

Thus to disbunlen sought with sad comjdaint: — 

" O miserable of happy ! Is this the end 
Of this new glorious World, and me so late 
The glory of that glory? who now, become 
Accursed of blessed, hide me from the face 
Of God, whom to behoUl was then my highth 
Of hapiiiness! Yet well, if here would end 
The misery ! T (leserved it. and would bear 
My own deserviugs. But this will not serve: 



HOOK X PARADISK LOST 313 

All that I eat or drink, or shall beget, 

Is propagated curse. O voice, once heard 

Delightfully, ' lincrease and mulliply,' 

Now death to hear ! for what can 1 encreasc 

Or multiply hut curses on my head? 

Who, of all ages to succeed, hut, feeling 

The evil on him brought by me, will curse 

My head ? 'Ill fare our Ancestor impure ! 

VoT this we may thank Adam I ' but his thanks 

Shall be the execration. So, besides 

Mine own that bide upon me, all from me 

Shall with a fierce reflux on me redound — 

On mc, as on their natural centre, light; 

lleavy, though in their place, i) fleeting joys 

Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes! 

Did I request thee. Maker, irom my clay 

To mould me Man ? Did I solicit thee 

From darkness to j)romote me, or here place 

In this delicious Garden? As my will 

Concurred not to my being, it were but right 

And equal to reduce me to my dust, 

Desirous to resign and render back 

Ail I received, unable to perform 

Thy terms too hard, by which 1 was to hold 

The good I sought not. To the loss of that. 

Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added 

The sense of endless woes? Inexplicable 

Thy justice seems. Yet, to say truth, too late 

I thus contest; then should have been refused 

'Ihose terms, whatever, when they were pro|)osefl. 

Thou didst accejit them: wilt thou enjoy the good, 

Then cavil the conditions? And, though God 

Made thee without thy leave, what if thy son 

Prove flisobedient, and, reproved, retort, 

* Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not ! ' 

Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee 

That prf)ud excuse? yet him not thy election, 

Jiut natural necessity, begot. 

(jod made thee of choice his own, and of his own 

To serve him; thy reward was of his grace; 



314 JOHN MILTON uooK X 

\ Tliy puiiisliuK'nt, tlu-n, jiislly is at his will. 
!'(.• it S(i, for .1 submit; his ikiDUi is fair, 
Th.it (lust I am, aiul shall to dust return. 
I) welcome hour whenever I Why delays 
I lis hand to execute what his decree 
iMxod on this day? Why ilo 1 overlive? 
Why am I mocked with deatii. and len;;lhciu\l out 
To deathless pain ? Mow ,t;ladlv would I meet 
Mortality, my sentence, and he earth 
Insensihle! how {;'lad would lay me down 
As in my mother's lap! There I should rest. 
Anil sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more 
Woidd thunder in my ears; no fear of worse 
To me and to my (ilTsprin^' woidd torment nie 
With cruel expectation. Net one douht 
Pursues me still -lest all 1 cannot die; 
Lest that pure hreath o[ life, the ."Spirit of Man 
Which tiocl inspired, cannot toi^ether perish 
With this corporeal clod. Then, in the j^rave, 
Or in some other dismal place, wdu) knows 
lUit I shall die a livinj: death? C) thoui;ht 
Horrid, if true! \'et why? It was hut hreath 
Of life that sinncil : what dies hut what had life 
And sin? The body properly hath neither. 
All of me, then, shall die: let this appease 
The doubt, since human reach no furtlier kiu)w s. 
l'\)r. though the Lord of all he inrmite. 
Is his wrauth also? r>e it, Man is not so. 
Hut mortal iloomed. .Hut can he exercise 
Wrauth without end on Man, whom death nuist end? 
Can he make ileathless ileath? That were to make 
Strai\i;e contradictiim ; which to litnl himself 
Impossible is held, as arj^tnnent 
Of weakness, not of iiower. Will he draw out. 
l'"or anger's sake, finite to inhnite 
In pmu'shed Man. to satisfy his rii^tuu" 
.Satisfied never? That were to extent! 
IHs sentence beyond dust and Nature's law; 
Ry whicli .all causes else accordinj^ still 
To the reception of their matter act. 



uotjK X PARADISE LOST 315 

Not to the extent of tlicir own sphere. Rut say 
'I hat (Icatli l)c not one stroke, as I supposed, 
I'lereavinf^ sense, hut endless misery 
J'"roni this day onward, wliich I feel hej^un 
liotli in me and without me, and so hist 

'J'o perpetuity Ay me I that fear 

Comes thunderinj;' Ijaek wilh rh-('a<lfnl rcvohitiou 

()\i my defenceless head! I'olli Dcalli and I 

Am found eternal, and incfjrporalc holli : 

Nor 1 on my part sinj^le; in nie all 

i'osterity stands cursc^d. i""air iiatrinumy 

That ! must leave ye, sons! Oh, were I ahic 

'l"o waste it all myself, aiul leave ye none I 

So disinherited, how would ye hiess 

Me, now your curse! Ah, why should all Mankind, 

h'or one man's fault, thus f^uiltless he condemned? 

If guiltless! I'ut from me what can proceed 

I'ut all corru|>t— hcjth mind anrl will clepraved 

Not to do only, hut to will the same 

With me? How can they, then, ac(|uitted stand 

In sifilit of (jod? Him, after all disput(fs, 

Forced I ahsolvc. All my evasions vain 

And reasoninjfs, though thrfjuj^h mazes, lead me still 

But to my own conviction : first and last 

On me, me only, as the source and spring 

Of all corrujjtioii, all llie hlame lights due. 

S(j might the wrautli ! h'ond wish ! could'st thou 

supi>ort 
That hurden, heavier than the JCarth to hear — 
Than all the world nmch heavier, though divided 
With that had Woman? Thus, what thou desir'st, 
And what thou fear'st, alike destroys all hope 
Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable 
Beyond all past example and future' — 
To Satan only like, both crime and doom. 

ronscience ! into what abyss of fears 

And horrors hast thou driven nie ; out of which 

1 fmd no way, from deeper to deejier plunged ! " 
Thus Adam lo himself lamented loud 

Thrrjiigh the :,till nifdit— not now, as ere Man fell, 



316 JOHN MILTON iiooR x 

Wliolosoiur ;iii(l rool ;m(l mild, Itnl willi M;u"k air 

AiToinpaiiiod. willi damps and droadlid i^lnom; 

Wliicli to Ills evil oonsoiciu'o ri'pri-sciitcd 

AH (liiii};s willi dmihlo lorror. On the j;rouiid 

Diitstielclied lie lay. on the otiKl {ground, and oh 

Cursed his ereation; Death as oft aceused 

Of tardy exeeiilion, since deiiotuu'ed 

The day of his oflencc. "Why comes not Healli," 

Said he, " with one thrice-aeeeptahle stroke 

Ti) end ine? Shall /rrnth fail to keep her word, 

Jnstiee divine not hasten to lie just? 

I?nt Death eomes not at eall ; Justice divine 

Mends not her sK)\vest pace for |Mayers or cries. 

woods. O fountains, hillocks, dales, and howers ! 
With other echo late 1 tauj^ht your shades 

'Vo answer, and resoiuul far other soni;." 
Whom thus afllicted when sad Kvc heheld, 
Desolate where she sat, approachini;- ni.!;h, 
S»ift words to his tierce i>assitMi she assayed ; 
lUit her, with stern rejjard. he thus rcpelleil : — 

" Out of my siqht, tluni Serpent ! That name hest 
Hetits thee, with him leagued, thyself as false 
Autl hateful: nothing wants, hut that thy shape 
I -ike his. and colour serpentine, may shew 
Thy inward fraud, to warn .ill creatures from tlu-e 
Henceforth, lest that loo heavcidy form, pretended 
To hellish falsehood, snare them. Hut for thee 

1 had persisted happy, had not thy pride 
An«l wandering vanity, when least w.is safe, 
Kejccted my forewarning, and disdainetl 
Not to he trusted— longing to he seen. 
Though hy the Devil himself; him overweening 
To overreach; hut, with the Serpent meeting. 
Fooled aud beguiled; hy him thou, 1 by thee. 
To trust thee from tny side, imagined wise. 
Crooked by nature — bent, as now appears, 
And unilerstooil not all was but a shew, 
Kather than soliil virtue, all hut a rib 
(."rookcil by nature bent, as now appears, 
More to the part sinister — frmn me drawn; 



< X PARADISE LOST 317 

Well if tlirown oiil, as supcrniiiiicrary 

'I'o my just iiuiiiIkt ffiutul I Dli, wliy did find 

Creator wise, tliat jjcoplcd liij^diest Heaven 

Willi Spirits masculine, create at last 

'i'his novelty on Earth, tliis fair defect 

Of Nature, and not fdl tlic World at once 

With men as Anj:(cls, without feminine; 

Or find some other way to j^eix rate 

Mankind? This mischief had nf>t then hcfallen, 

AnrI more that shall hefall — innumerahle 

Disturbances on Earth tlirouj,di female snares, 

And strait conjmiction with this sex. I'"f)r either 

He never shall find out fit mate, hut such 

As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; 

Or vvlifiui he wishes most shall s<-Idr)m j^ain, 

Throuj^h her perverseness, hut shall see her gained 

P.y a far worse, or, if she love, withheld 

I'y parents; or his happiest choice too late 

Shall meet, already linked anrl wedlock-hound 

To a fell adversary, his hate or shame : 

Which infinite calamity shall cause 

To lnmian life, and hfjusehold jx-ace confoimd." 

He added not, and from her turned; hut live, 
Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowinj^. 
And tresses all disordered, at his feet 
l'"ell huinhle, and, imhracinfj them, hesoujjht 
His i)eacc, and thus proceerled in her plaint: — 

" T'Vjrsakc mc not thus, Adam ! witness Heaven 
What love sincere and reverence in my heart 
I hear thee, and unweeting have f)ffended, 
Unhappily deceiv(;d! Thy su|)pliaMt 
I hef^, and clasp thy knees; bereave nic uoi 
Whereon I live, thy f^entle looks, thy aid. 
Thy counsel in this uttermrjst distress, 
My only strength and stay. l'"orlorn of thee, 
Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? 
While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, 
Between us two let there be peace ; both joining, 
As joined in injuries, one enmity 
Against a h'oe by rloom express assigned us. 



3 IS JOHN MI I, TON book x 

Tluit onu'l Sorpont. On uic oxotciso not 
Tlw hatroJ tor tliis misoiv IhM'.iIKmi — ■ 
(.>t» i»u" already lost, two than tlivsolt 
Moro uusotablc. l^otli have siimo».l: but ihou 
Against Clod only; 1 aj;ainst (Iiul ami thoi-, 
And [o tho place of judjjiuont will i\iuru, 
TluMi" with tuy cries iiuiior'tunc Heaven, (hat all 
The sentence. Iioni thy head removed, ni.iy h.qhl 
On mo. solo cause io thee ot all this wi»c. 
Mo. mo only, just ohjoet of His ire." 

She ouiled. woeiMns;; ami her K>wly pliijht, 
lunninahle till peace ohtainoil tiiMu fault 
Acknowleili;ed and deplored, in .\dam wran.qht 
(.'onuniseration. Soon his heart roleutoil 
Towarils hor. his lii'o so late, ami solo dolij;ht. 
Now at his foot sulunissivo in distress 
Croatm'o st> fair his reconeilei\ient seekiuj;'. 
His counsel whom she had dispUwsed. his aid. 
As one disarmed, his aui^er all he lost. 
And thus with poacolul words upraised hor soon: — 

" I'nwary. and too ilosirous. as hoforo 
So now. of what thou know'st not. who desir'st 
The punishment all on thyself ! Alas ! 
Hoar thine own lirst. ill ahlo to sustain 
His full wraiuh whoso thou feel'st as yet least 

p.u t, 
And n\y displeasmo hoar'st so ill. If prayers 
C'ould alter high decrees. 1 to th.it place 
Would speed hofm-o thoo. and ho louder heard. 
That on my head all mis>ht he visited. 
Thy frailty and intirmor sox fori^ivon. 
To mo connuitted. and by nio exposed. 
But rise : lot us no more contend, nor blame 
Kach other, blamed onouj;h olsowhore. but strive 
In ollicos of love how wo may lij;hten 
I'^ach other's burden in our share of woe ; 
Since this day's death denouncod. if atii^ht 1 see, 
Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil, 
A Kmij; day's dyiusij". to ani;n\ent our pain. 
.\nd to owv seoil (^O hapless seed!) derived." 



HOOK X I'AKAhl.SK LOST 310 

To whom thus Eve, rccovcrinj^ heart, replied: — 
" Aflam, hy sad experiment I know 
How little wcipjht my words with tlice can find, 
I'Oinid so erroneous, thence hy just event 
I'otirid so unfortunate. Nevertheless, 
Restored hy thee, vile as I am, trj jjlacc 
Of new acce|>tance, hojjeftd to regain 
Thy love, the sole conlentnu^nt of my heart, 
Living; or dyinj^ from thee I will not hide 
What thoujfhts in my tuif|uict hreast are risen, 
Tendinji to some relief of our extremes, 
Or end, thouj(h sharp and sad, yet tolerahlc, 
As in f)ur evils, and of easier choice. 
If caic of our descent per]>lex us most. 
Which must he horn to certain wo(;, flevoured 
l'»y Death at last (anrl miserahic it is 
To he to others cause of misery, 
Our own hejijotten, and of fjur loins to hring 
Into this cursed world a woeful race, 
That, after wretched life, must he at last 
l'"ood for so foul a Monster), in thy pfjwer 
It lies, yet ere conception, trj prevent 
The race unhlest, to hcinj^ yet unhe^^ot. 
f-*hildless thou art; childh.-ss remain. So Death 
.Shall he deceived his ^lut, anrl with tis two 
I'e forced to satisfy his rav('iioiis maw. 
lint, if thou judj:(e it harrl anrl difiicult, 
("onversin^, lookinjj, lovinj;^, to ahstain 
h'rom love's due rites, nuptial imhraccs sweet, 
And with desire to languish without hope 
Before the present ohject lanj^uishinj^ 
With like desire — which wouhl he misery 
Anrl torment less than none of what we dread — 
Then, hoth our selves anrl seed at once to free 
From what we fear for JKjth, let us make short; 
Let us seek Death, or, he not fourul, supply 
With our own hanrls his office on ourselves. 
Why stand we lonj^er shiverinj^ under fears 
That shew no end hut death, and have the power, 
C)f many ways trj die the shortest choosing. 



320 JOHN MILTON nooK X 

Dcslniclioii willi (Ic-stnu-lion Id di'slroy?" 

Slu" ciuK'd hero, or vcIkmikmU (losi);iir 
l^rokc olT the rest ; so much of death lier thoughts 
Had euterlaincd as dyed her cheeks with pale. 
Rut Adam, with such eouusel nothint;- swayed, 
'I'o hetter hopes his more alleutive mind 
Lal)ouriug had raisetl, and thus to iLve rephed : — 

" I'lve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems 
To ar<;ue in thee something more snhlimc 
And excellent than what thy mind conlenms: 
r>nl self di-struction therefore sought refutes 
'Thai excellence thought in thee, and implies 
Not thy contemiit, hut anguish and regret 
lM)r loss of life and pleasme overloved. 
Or, if thou covet death, as utmost end 
Of misery, so thinking to evade 
The penalty pronounced, doubt not hut (lod 
llath wiselier armed his vengeful ire than so 
To lie forestalled. Much more I fear lest death 
So snatched will not exempt us from the pain 
Wc are hy doom to pay ; rather such acts 
Of contumacy will jirovoke the Highest 
To make death in us live. Then let us sock 
Some safer resolution — which methinks 
T have in view, calling to mind with heed 
Tart of our sentence, that thy seed shall hruisc 
The Serpent's head. Piteous amends! uidess 
He meant whom 1 conjecture, our grand foe, 
S:it;ni. who in the Serpent hath contriveil 
Ag.unst us this deceit. To crush his head 
Woidd he revenge indeeil — which will he lost 
Hy death brought on ourselves, or childless days 
Resolved as thou proposest ; so our foe 
Shall scape his punishment ordained, and wo 
Insteatl shall douhle ouv^ ujion ouv heads. 
No more he mentioned, then, of violence 
Against ourselves, and wilful barrenness 
Tliat cuts us off from hoiie, and savours only 
Rancour and pride, impatience and despite. 
Reluctance against (loil and his iust yoke 



BOOK X PARADISE LOST 321 

Laid on our necks. l\onicnil)cr with what mild 
And j^racions temper he l)oth licard and judged, 
Without wrauth or revlHng. We expected 
Iniincdiate dissolution, which wc thought 
Was meant hy death that day ; when, h) ! to tlicc 
Pains only in child-hearing were foretold, 
And hringing forth, soon recompensed with joy, 
i''ruit of thy womh. On me the curse aslope 
(ilanced on the ground. With lahour \ must cam 
My hread; what harm? Idleness had heen worse; 
My lahour will sustain me; and, lest cold 
Or heat should injure us, his timely care 
Hath, unhesought, provided, and his hands 
Clothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged. 
How much more, if wc pray him, will his ear 
Be open, and his heart to pity incline, 
And teach us further hy what means to shun 
The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow! 
Whicli now the sky, with various face, hcgins 
To shew us in this mountain, while the winds 
Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks 
Of these fair spreading trees; which hids us seek 
Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish 
Our limbs benumbed — ere this diurnal star 
Leave cold the night, how we his gathered beams 
Reflected may with matter sere foment, 
Or by collision of two bodies grind 
The air attrite to fire, as late the clouds, 
Tustling, or pushed with winds, rude in their shock. 
Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame, driven 

down. 
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine. 
And sends a comfortable heat from far, 
Which might supply the Sim. Such fire to use, 
And what may else be remedy or cure 
To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought. 
He will instruct us praying, and of grace 
Beseeching him ; so as we need not fear 
To pass commodiously this life, sustained 
By him with many comforts, till we end 



322 JOHN MILTON book xi 

In (hist, our final rost aiul native home. 
What hotter can \vc lU) than, to Iho pUice 
Rojiairiny whore ho judged ns, prostrate fall 
Before him reverent, and there confess 
Hunihly our faults, and pardon hog. witli tears 
Watering the ground, and with our sighs tiio air 
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign 
Of sorrow unfeigned and humiliation meek? 
Ihidouhtedly he will relent, and turn 
From his displeasure, in whose look serene, 
When angry most he seemed and most severe. 
What else hut favour, grace, and mercy shon ? " 

So spake our Father penitent : nor Eve 
Felt less remorse. They, forthwith to the place 
Repairing where he judged them, prostrate fell 
Before him reverent, and both confessed 
Humhly their faults, and pardon begged, with tears 
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air 
Fre(iuenting. sent from hearts contrite, in sign 
Of sorrow unfeigned and humiliation meek. 



THE ELEVENTH BOOK 

TiiK Aroument. — The Son of God presents to his Father the pray- 
ers of our first parents now repenting, and intercedes for them. 
Ciod accepts thcni. but declares that thoy nuist no lon};er abide in 
Paradise; sends Michael with a liand of Cherubim to dispossess 
tht-iii. but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael's coining 
(low n. Adam shews to Eve certain ominous signs : he discerns 
Michael's approach ; goes out to meet him : the Angel denounces 
theif departure. Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits : 
the Angel leads him up to a high hill ; sets before him in vision 
what shall happen till the Flood. 

Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood 
Praying; for from the Mercy-seat above 
Prevenient grace descending had removed 
The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh 
Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breathed 
Umitterable. which the Spirit of prayer 



BOOK XI PARADISE LOST 323 

Inspired, and winged for Heaven with speedier flight 

Than loudest oratory. Yet their port 

Not of mean suitors; nor important less 

Seemed their petition than when the ancient Pair 

In fables old, less ancient yet than these, 

Deucalion and chaste f^yrrha, to restore 

The race of mankind drowned, before the shrine 

Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayers 

Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious winds 

Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they passed 

Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then, clad 

With incense, where the Golden Altar fumed, 

By their great Intercessor, came in sight 

Before the Father's Throne. Them the glad Son 

Presenting thus to intercede began : — 

" See, Father, what first-fruits on Earth are sprung 
From thy implanted grace in Man — these sighs 
And prayers, which in this golden censer, mixed 
With incense, I, thy priest, before thee bring; 
Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed 
Sown with contrition in his heart, than those 
Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees 
Of Paradise could have produced, ere fallen 
From innocence. Now, therefore, bend thine ear 
To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute; 
Unskilful with what words to pray, let me 
Interpret for him, me his Advocate 
And propitiation ; all his works on me, 
Good or not good, ingraft ; my merit those 
Shall perfet, and for these my death shall pay. 
Accept me, and in me from these receive 
The smell of peace toward Mankind; let him live, 
Before thee reconciled, at least his days 
Numbered, though sad, till death, his doom (which I 
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse). 
To better life shall yield him, where with me 
All my redeemed may dwell in joy and bliss. 
Made one with me, as I with thee am one." 

To whom the Father, without cloud, serene : — 
"All thy request for Man, accepted Son, 



324 JOHN MILTON book xi 

Obtain ; all thy request was my decree. 

lUU longer in that I'aradise to dwell 

The law I jrave to Nature him forbids; 

Those pure immortal elements, that know 

No gross, no unharmonious mixture fi)ul. 

Eject him, tainted now, and purge him off, 

As a distemper, gross, to air as gross, 

And mortal food, as may dispose him best 

For dissolution wrought by sin, that first 

Distempered all things, and of incorrupt 

Corrupted. I. at first, with two fair gifts 

Created him endowed — with Happiness 

And Immortality; that fondly lost. 

This other served but to eternize woe. 

Till I provided Death : so Death becomes 

His final remedy, and, after life 

Tried in sharp tribulation, and refined 

By faith and faithful works, to second life. 

Waked in the renovation of the just. 

Resigns him up with Heaven and Earth renewed. 

But let us call to synod all the Blest 

Through Heaven's wide bounds; from them I will 

not hide 
My judgments — how with Mankind I proceed, 
As how with peccant Angels late they saw, 
And in their state, though firm, stood more confirmcil " 

He ended, and the Son gave signal high 
To the bright Minister that watched. He blew 
His trumi)ct. heard in Oreb since perhaps 
When God descended, and perhaps once more 
To sound at general doom. The angelic blast 
Filled all the regions : from their blissful bowers 
Of amarantin shade, fountain or spring. 
By the waters of life, where'er they sate 
In fellowships of joy. the Sons of Light 
Hasted, resorting to the summons high. 
And took their seats, till from his Throne supreme 
The Almighty thus pronounced his sovran will : — 

" O Sons, like one of us Man is become 
To know both Good and Evil, since his taste 



BOOK XI PARADISK LOST 325 

Of that defended Friiil ; hut ki Iiim boast 

His knowledge of good lost and evil got, 

Happier had it sufficed him to have known 

Good by itself and evil not at all. 

He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite — 

My motions in him ; longer than they move, 

His heart 1 know how variable and vain, 

Self-left. Lest, therefore, his now bolder hand 

Reach also of the Tree of T.ife, and eat, 

And live for ever, dream at least to live 

For ever, to remove him I decree. 

And send him from the Garden forth, to till 

The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil. 

Michael, this my behest have thou in charge: 

Take to thee from among the Cherubim 

Thy choice of flaming warriors, lest the Fiend, 

Or in behalf of Man, or to invade 

Vacant possessions, some new trouble raise; 

Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God 

Without remorse drive out the sinful pair. 

From hallowed ground the unholy, and denounce 

To them, and to their progeny, from thence 

Perpetual banishment. Yet, lest they faint 

At the sad sentence rigorously urged 

(For I behold them softened, and with tears 

Bewailing their excess), all terror hide. 

If patiently thy bidding they obey. 

Dismiss them not disconsolate ; reveal 

To Adam what shall come in future days, 

As I shall thee enlighten ; intermix 

My covenant in the Woman's seed renewed. 

So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace; 

And on the east side of the Garden place, 

Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs, 

Cherubic watch, and of a Sword the flame 

Wide-waving, all approach far off to fright, 

And guard all passage to the Tree of Life; 

Lest Paradise a receptacle prove 

To Spirits foul, and all my trees their prey. 

With whose stolen fruit Man once more to delude." 

U HCIV 



326 JOHN MILTON BOOK XI 

He ccasod, and tlic Archangelic Power prepared 
For swift descent; with him the cohort bright 
Of watchfnl Cherubim. Four faces each 
Had, Hkc a double Janus ; all their shape 
Spangknl with eyes more numerous than those 
Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drowse. 
Charmed with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed 
Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile, 
To resalute the World with sacred light, 
Leucothea waked, and with fresh dews imbalmed 
The Earth, when Adam and first matron Eve 
Had ended now their orisons, and found 
Strength added from above, new hope to spring 
Out of despair, joy, but with fear yet linked; 
Which thus to Eve his welcome words renewed : — 

" Eve, easily may faith admit that all 
The good which we enjoy from Heaven descends; 
But that from us aught should ascend to Heaven 
So prevalent as to concern the mind 
Of God high-blest, or to incline his will. 
Hard to belief may seem. Yet this will prayer, 
Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne 
Even to the seat of God. For. since I sought 
By prayer the olYendod Deity to appease. 
Kneeled and before him humbled all my heart, 
Methought I saw him placable and mild. 
Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew 
That I was heard with favour; peace returned 
Home to my breast, and to my memory 
His promise that thy seed shall bruise our Foe; 
Which, then not minded in dismay, yet now 
Assures mc that the bitterness of death 
Is past, and we shall live. Whence hail to thee! 
Eve rightly called. Mother of all Mankind, 
Mother of all things living, since by thee 
Man is to live, and all things live for Man." 

To whom thus Eve with sad demeanour meek: — 
" Ill-worthy I such title should belong 
To mc traiosgressor, who, for thee ordained 
A help, became thy snare ; to me reproach 



tOOK XI PARADISE LOST 327 

Rather belongs, distrust and all dispraise. 

But infinite in pardon was my Judge, 

That I, who first brought death on all, am graced 

The source of life; next favourable thou, 

Who highly thus to entitle me voutsaf'st, 

Far other name deserving. But the field 

To labour calls us, now with sweat imposed. 

Though after sleepless night; for see! the Morn, 

All unconcerned with our unrest, begins 

Her rosy progress smiling. Let us forth, 

I never from thy side henceforth to stray, 

Where'er our day's work lies, though now enjoined 

Laborious, till day droop. While here we dwell, 

What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks? 

Here let us live, though in fallen state, content." 

So spake, so wished, much-humbled Eve ; but Fate 
Subscribed not. Nature first gave signs, impressed 
On bird, beast, air — air suddenly eclipsed, 
After short blush of morn. Nigh in her sight 
The bird of Jove, stooped from his aerie tour. 
Two birds of gayest plume before him drove ; 
Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, 
First hunter then, pursued a gentle brace, 
Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; 
Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. 
Adam observed, and, with his eye the chase 
Pursuing, not unmoved to Eve thus spake : — 

" O Eve, some furder change awaits us nigh. 
Which Heaven by these mute signs in Nature shews. 
Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn 
Us, haply too secure of our discharge 
From penalty because from death released 
Some days: how long, and what till then our life. 
Who knows, or more than this, that we arc dust, 
And thither must return, and be no more ? 
Why else this double object in our sight, 
Of flight pursued in the air and o'er the ground 
One way the self-same hour? Why in the east 
Darkness ere day's mid-course, and morning-light 
More orient in yon western cloud, that draws 



328 JOHN MILTON book XI 

O'er tlio blue finnainont a radiant white. 

And slow descends, with something Heavenly franght? " 

He erred not ; for, by this, the Heavenly bands 
Down from a sky of jasjier lighted now 
In Paradise, and on a hill made halt — 
A glorions Apparition, had not doubt 
And carnal fear that day dimmed Adam's eye. 
Not that more glorious, when the Angels met 
Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw 
The field pavilioned with his guardians bright; 
Nor that which on the flaming Mount appeared 
In Dothan, covered with a camp of fire, 
Against the Syrian king, who. to surprise 
One man. assassin-like, had levied war. 
War unproclaimed. The princely Hierarch 
In their bright stand there left his Powers to seize 
Possession of the Garden ; he alone. 
To find where Adam sheltered, took his way. 
Not unperceived of Adam ; who to Eve. 
While the great Visitant approached, thus spake : — 

" Eve. now expect great tidings, which, perhaps, 
Of us will soon determine, or impose 
New laws to be observed ; for I descry. 
From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill. 
One of the Heavenly host, and, by his gait, 
None of the meanest — some great Potentate 
Or of the Thrones above, such majesty 
Invests him coming; yet not terrible. 
That I should fear, nor sociably mild. 
As Raphael, that I should nuich confide, 
Bi*t solemn and sublime ; whom, not to otf end, 
\\ith reverence I nuist meet, and thou retire." 

He ended ; and the Archangel soon drew nigh. 
Not in his shape celestial, but as man 
Clad to meet man. Over his lucid arms 
A military vest of purple flowed. 
Livelier than MelilKvan. or the grain 
Of Sarra. worn by kings and heroes old 
In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof. 
His starry helm unbuckled shewed him prime 



BOOK XI PARADISE LOST 329 

III iiKiiiliooil where youth ciulcil ; hy his side, 
As ill a glistering zodiae, hung the sword, 
Satan's dire dread, and in his hand the spear. 
.\^laln howed low ; he. kingly, from his state 
Inelined not, hut his coming thus declared: — 

" Adam, Heaven's high hehest no preface needs. 
SutVicient that thy prayers are heard, and Death, 
Then due hy sentence when thou didst transgress, 
Defeated of his seizure many days, 
(iiven thee of grace, wherein thou may'st repent, 
And one had act with many deeds well done 
May'st cover. W ell may then thy Lord, appeased, 
Redeem thee quite from Deci^th's rapacious claim ; 
lUit longer in this Paradise to dwell 
Permits not. To remove thee I am come. 
And send tliee from the Garden forth, to till 
The ground whence thou wast taken, litter soil." 
lie added not ; for Adam, at the news 
lleart-strook, with chilling gripe of sorrow stood, 
That all his senses hound; Eve, who unseen 
Yet all had heard, with audihle lament 
Discovered soon the place of her retire : — 

" O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death ! 
Must I thus leave thee. Paradise? thus leave 
Thee, native soil? these happy walks and shades. 
Pit haunt'of Gods, where I had hope to spend. 
Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day 
That nuist be mortal to us both? O tlowers, 
That never will in other climate grow. 
My early visitation, and my last 
At even, which I brod up with tender hand 
From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, 
Who now shall rear yc to the Sun, or rank 
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount? 
Thee, lastly, nuptial bow-er, by me adorned 
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee 
How shall I part, and whither wander down 
Into a lower world, to this obscure 
And wild? How shall we breathe in other air 
Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits? " \ 



330 JOHN MILTON BOOK XI 

Whom thus the Angel interrupted niiUl: 
" Lament not. Eve, hut patiently resign 
What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart, 
Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine. 
Thy going is not lonely ; with thee goes 
Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound; 
Where he abides, think there thy native soil." 

Adam, by this from the coid sudden damp 
Recovering, and his scattered spirits returned, 
To Michael thus his humble words addressed: — 

" Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named 
Of them the highest — for such of shape may seem 
Prince above princes — gently hast thou told 
Thy message, which might else in telling wound, 
And in performing end us. What besides 
Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair. 
Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring — 
Departure from this happy place, our sweet 
Recess, and only consolation left 
Familiar to our eyes; all places else 
Inhospitable appear, and desolate, 
Nor knowing us, nor known. And, if by prayer 
Incessant I could hope to change the will 
Of llim who all things can. I would not cease 
To weary him with my assiduous cries ; 
But prayer against his absolute decree 
No more avails than breath against the wind. 
Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth : 
Therefore to his great bidding I submit. 
This most afflicts me — that, departing hence. 
As from his face I shall be hid, deprived 
His blessed countenance. Here I could frequent, 
With worship, place by place where he voutsafed 
Presence Divine, and to my sons relate, 
' On this mount He appeared ; under this tree 
Stood visible ; among these pines his voice 
I heard ; here with him at this fountain talked.' 
So many grateful altars I would rear 
Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone 
Of lustre from the brook, in memory 



UOOK XI PARADISE LOST 331 

Or niomiiiK'iit to ages, and tlicrcon 

Offer swcet-snielling gums, and fruits, and flowers. 

In yonder nether world where shall I seek 

His bright appearances, or footstep trace? 

For, though I fled him angry, yet, recalled 

To life prolonged and promised race, I now 

Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts 

Of glory, and far off his steps adore." 

To whom thus Michael, with regard benign: — 
"Adam, thou know'st Heaven his, and all the Earth, 
Not this rock only; his omnipresence fills 
Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, 
Fomented by his virtual power and warmed. 
All the Earth he gave thee to possess and rule, 
No despicable gift ; surmise not, then. 
His presence to these narrow boimds confined 
Of Paradise or Eden. This had been 
Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread 
All generations, and had hither come. 
From all the ends of the Earth, to celebrate 
And reverence thee their great progenitor. 
But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down 
To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: 
Yet doubt not but in valley and in ])lain 
God is, as here, and will be found alike 
Present, and of his presence many a sign 
Still following thee, still compassing thee round 
With goodness and paternal love, his face 
Express, and of his steps the track divine. 
Which that thou may'st believe, and Ix: confirmed 
Ere thou from hence depart, know I am sent 
To shew thee what shall come in future days 
To thee and to thy orfsi)ring. Good with bad 
I'^xpect to hear, supernal grace contending 
With sinfulness of men — thereby to learn 
True patience, and to temper joy with fear 
And pious sorrow, equally inured 
By moderation either state to bear, 
Prosperous or adverse : so shalt thou lead 
Safest thy life, and best prepared endure 



332 JOHN MILTON BOOK xi 

Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend 
This hill; let Eve (for I have drenched her eyes) 
Here sleep below while thou to foresight wak'st, 
As once thou slept'st while she to life was formed." 

To whom thus Adam gratefully replied : — 
" Ascend ; I follow thee, safe Guide, the path 
Thou lead'st me, and to the hand of Heaven submit, 
However chastening — to the evil turn 
My obvious breast, arming to overcome 
By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, 
If so I may attain." So both ascend 
In the Visions of God. It was a hill. 
Of Paradise the highest, from whose top 
The hemisphere of Earth is clearest ken 
Stretched out to the amplest reach of prospect lay. 
Not higher that hill, nor wider looking ground, 
Whereon for different cause the Tempter set 
Our second Adam, in the wilderness, 
To shew him all Earth's kingdoms and their glory. 
His eye might there command wherever stood 
City of old or modern fame, the seat 
Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls 
Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, 
And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne. 
To Paquin, of Sinaean kings, and thence 
To Agra and Labor of Great Mogul, 
Down to the golden Chersonese, or where 
The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since 
In Hispahan, or where the Russian Ksar 
In Mosco, or the Sultan in Bizance, 
Turchestan-born ; nor could his eye not ken 
The empire of Negus to his utmost port 
Ercoco, and the less maritime kings, 
Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, 
And Sofala (thought Ophir), to the realm 
Of Congo, and Angola fardest south. 
Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount. 
The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, 
Marocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen; 
On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway 



BOOK XI PARADISE LOST 333 

The world: in spirit perhaps he also saw 

Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume, 

And Cusco in Peru, the richer scat 

Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoiled 

Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons 

Call El Dorado. But to nobler sights 

Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed 

Which that false fruit that promised clearer sight 

Had bred; then purged with euphrasy and rue 

The visual nerve, for he had much to see, 

And from the well of life three drops instilled. 

So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, 

Even to the inmost seat of mental sight. 

That Adam, now enforced to close his eyes, 

Sunk down, and all his spirits became intranced. 

But him the gentle Angel by the hand 

Soon raised, and his attention thus recalled : — 

" Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold 
The effects which thy original crime hath wrought 
In some to spring from thee, who never touched 
The excepted Tree, nor with the Snake conspired, 
Nor sinned thy sin, yet from that sin derive 
Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds." 

His eyes he opened, and beheld a field. 
Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves 
New-reaped, the other part sheep-walks and folds; 
I' the midst an altar as the landmark stood, 
Rustic, of grassy sord. Thither anon 
A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought 
First fruits, the green ear and the yellow sheaf, 
Unculled, as came to hand. A shepherd next, 
More meek, came with the firstlings of his flock. 
Choicest and best; then, sacrificing, laid 
The inwards and their fat, with incense strewed, 
On the cleft wood, and all due rites performed. 
His offering soon propitious fire from heaven 
Consumed, with nimble glance and grateful steam; 
The other's not, for his was not sincere : 
Whereat he inly raged, and, as they talked. 
Smote him into the midriff with a stone 



334 JOHN MILTON book xi 

That beat out life; he fell, and, deadly pale, 
Groaned out his soul, with gushing blood effused. 
Much at that sight was Adam in his heart 
Dismayed, and thus in haste to the Angel cried : — 

" O Teacher, some great mischief hath befallen 
To that meek man, who well had sacrificed : 
Is piety thus and pure devotion paid ? "' 

To whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied : — 
" These two are brethren, Adam, and to come 
Out of thy loins. The unjust the just hath slain. 
For envy that his brother's offering found 
From Heaven acceptance ; but the bloody fact 
Will be avenged, and the other's faith approved 
Lose no reward, though here thou see him die, 
Rowling in dust and gore." To which our Sire : — 

" Alas, both for the deed and for the cause ! 
But have I now seen Death ? Is this the way 
I must return to native dust ? O sight 
Of terror, foul and ugly to behold ! 
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel ! " 

To whom thus INIichael : — " Death thou hast seen 
In his first shape on Man ; but many shapes 
Of Death, and many are the ways that lead 
To his grim cave — all dismal, yet to sense 
More terrible at the entrance than within. 
Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die, 
By fire, flood, famine ; by intemperance more 
In meats and drinks, which on the Earth shall bring 
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew 
Before thee shall appear, that thou may'st know 
What misery the inabstinence oT Eve 
Shall bring on men." Immediately a place 
Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark; 
A lazar-house it seemed, wherein were laid 
Numbers of all diseased — all maladies 
Of ghastly spasm, of racking torture, qualms 
Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds. 
Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs. 
Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, 
Dnemoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy, 



BOOK XI PARADISE LOST 335 

And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, 
Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, 
Dropsies and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. 
Dire was the tossing, deep the groans ; Despair 
Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch ; 
And over them triumphant Death his ddW 
Shook, but delayed to strike though oft invoked 
With vows, as their chief good and final hope. 
Sight so deform what heart of rock could long 
Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept, 
Though not of woman born : compassion quelled 
His best of man, and gave him up to tears 
A space, till firmer thoughts restrained excess, 
And, scarce recovering words, his plaint renewed : — 

" O miserable Mankind, to what fall 
Degraded, to what wretched state reserved ! 
Better end here unborn. Why is life given 
To be thus wrested from us? rather why 
Obtruded on us thus? who, if we knew 
What we receive, would either not accept 
Life offered, or soon beg to lay it down, 
Glad to be so dismissed in peace. Can thus 
The image of God in Man, created once 
So goodly and erect, though faulty since, 
To such unsightly suft'erings be debased 
Under inhuman pains? Why should not Man, 
Retaining still divine similitude 
In part, from such deformities be free, 
And for his Maker's image' sake exempt? " 

" Their Maker's image," answered Michael, " then 
Forsook them, when themselves they vilified 
To serve ungoverned Appetite, and took 
His image whom they served — a brutish vice, 
Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. 
Therefore so abject is their punishment, 
Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own ; 
Or, if his likeness, by themselves defaced 
While they pervert pure Nature's healthful rules 
To loathsome sickness — worthily, since they 
God's image did not reverence in themselves." 



336 JOHN MILTON book XI 

" I yield it just," said Adam, " and submit. 
But is there yet no other way, besides 
These painful passages, how we may come 
To death, and mix with our connatural dust ? " 

" There is," said Michael, " if thou well observe 
The rule of Not too much, by temperance taught 
In what thou eat'st and drink'st, seeking from thence 
Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight. 
Till many years over thy head return. 
So may'st thou live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop 
Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease 
Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature. 
This is old age ; but then thou must outlive 
Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change 
To withered, weak, and grey ; thy senses then. 
Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgo 
To what thou hast ; and, for the air of youth. 
Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign 
A melancholy damp of cold and dry. 
To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume 
The balm of life." To whom, our Ancestor : — „ 

" Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong 
Life much — bent rather how I may be quit, 
Fairest and easiest, of this cumbrous charge, 
Which I must keep till my appointed day 
Of rendering up, and patiently attend 
My dissolution." Michael replied : — 

" Nor love thy life, nor hate ; but what thou liv'st 
Live well ; how long or short permit to Heaven. 
And now prepare thee for another sight." 

He looked, and saw a spacious plain, whereon 
Were tents of various hue : by some were herds 
Of cattle grazing : others whence the sound 
Of instruments that made melodious chime 
Was heard, of harp and organ, and who moved 
Their stops and chords was seen : his volant touch 
Instinct through all proportions low and high 
Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue. 
In other part stood one who, at the forge 
Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brass 



BOOK XI PARADISE LOST 337 

Had melted (whether found where casual fire 

Had wasted woods, on mountain or in vale, 

Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot 

To some cave's mouth, or whether washed by stream 

From underground) ; the liquid ore he drained 

Into fit moulds prepared ; from which he formed 

First his own tools, then what might else be wrought 

Fusil or graven in metal. After these, 

But on the hither side, a different sort 

From the high neighbouring hills, which was their seat, 

Down to the plain descended : by their guise 

Just men they seemed, and all their study bent 

To worship God aright, and know his works 

Not hid; nor those things last which might preserve 

Freedom and peace to men. They on the plain 

Long had not walked when from the tents behold 

A bevy of fair women, richly gay 

In gems and wanton dress ! to the harp they sung 

Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on. 

The men, though grave, eyed them, and let their eyes 

Rove without rein, till, in the amorous net 

Fast caught, they liked, and each his liking chose. 

And now of love they treat, till the evening-star. 

Love's harbinger, appeared ; then, all in heat. 

They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke 

Hymen, then first to marriage rites invoked : 

With feast and music all the tents resound. 

Such happy interview, and fair event 

Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flowers. 

And charming symphonies, attached the heart 

Of Adam, soon inclined to admit delight. 

The bent of Nature ; which he thus expressed : — 

" True opener of mine eyes, prime Angel blest, 
Much better seems this vision, and more hope 
Of peaceful days portends, than those two past : 
Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse; 
Here Nature seems fulfilled in all her ends." 

To whom thus Michael : — " Judge not what is best 
By pleasure, though to Nature seeming meet, 
Created, as thou art, to nobler end, 



338 JOHN MILTON book xi 

Holy and pure, conformity divine. 

Those tents thou saw'st so pleasant were the tents 

Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race 

Who slew his brother: studious they appear 

Of arts that polish life, inventors rare; 

Unmindful of their Maker, though his Spirit 

Taught them ; but they his gifts acknowledged none. 

Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget ; 

For that fair female troop thou saw'st, that seemed 

Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay. 

Yet empty of all good wherein consists 

Woman's domestic honour and chief praise; 

Bred only and completed to the taste 

Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, 

To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye ; — 

To these that sober race of men, whose lives 

Religious titled them the Sons of God, 

Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame, 

Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles 

Of these fair atheists, and now swim in joy 

(Erelong to swim at large) and laugh; for which 

The world erelong a world of tears must weep." 

To whom thus Adam, of short joy bereft: — 
" O pity and shame, that they who to live well 
Entered so fair should turn aside to tread 
Paths indirect, or in the midway faint! 
But still I see the tenor of Man's woe 
Holds on the same, from Woman to begin." 

*' From Man's effeminate slackness it begins." 
Said the Angel, " who should better hold his place 
By wisdom, and superior gifts received. 
But now prepare thee for another scene." 

He looked, and saw wide territory spread 
Before him — towns, and rural works between, 
Cities of men with lofty gates and towers. 
Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war, 
Giants of mighty bone and bold emprise. 
Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, 
Single or in array of battle ranged 
Both horse and foot, nor idly mustering stood. 



BOOK xr PARADISE LOST 339 

One way a band select from forage drives 

A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine. 

From a fat meadow-ground, or fleecy flock, 

Ewes and their bleating lambs, over the plain, 

Their booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly. 

But call in aid, which makes a bloody fray : 

With cruel tournament the squadrons join; 

Where cattle pastured late, now scattered lies 

With carcasses and arms the ensanguined field 

Deserted. Others to a city strong 

Lay siege, encamped, by battery, scale, and mine, 

Assaulting; others from the wall defend 

With dart and javelin, stones and sulphurous fire; 

On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds. 

In other parts the sceptred haralds call 

To council in the city-gates : anon 

Grey-headed men and grave, with warriors mixed, 

Assemble, and harangues are heard; but soon 

In factious opposition, till at last 

Of middle age one rising, eminent 

In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong, 

Of justice, of religion, truth, and peace. 

And judgment from above: him old and young 

Exploded, and had seized with violent hands, 

Had not a cloud descending snatched him thence, 

Unseen amid the throng. So violence 

Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law. 

Through all the plain, and refuge none was found. 

Adam was all in tears, and to his guide 

Lamenting turned full sad: — "Oh, what are these? 

Death's ministers, not men ! who thus deal death 

Inhumanly to men, and multiply 

Ten thousandfold the sin of him who slew 

His brother; for of whom such massacre 

Make they but of their brethren, men of men? 

But who was that just man, whom had not Heaven 

Rescuedr had in his righteousness been lost?" 

To whom thus Michael : — " These arc the product' 
Of those ill-mated marriages thou saw'st. 
Where good with bad were matched ; who of themselves 



340 JOHN MILTON BOOK XI 

Abhor to join, and, by imprudence mixed, 

Produce prodigious births of body or mind. 

Such were these Giants, men of high renown ; 

For in those days might only shall be admired, 

And valour and heroic virtue called. 

To overcome in battle, and subdue 

Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite 

Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch 

Of human glory, and, for glory done. 

Of triumph to be styled great conquerors, 

Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods — 

Destroyers rightlier called, and Plagues of men. 

Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth, 

And what most merits fame in silence hid. 

But he, the seventh from thee, whom thou beheld'st 

The only righteous in a world perverse. 

And therefore hated, therefore so beset 

With foes, for daring single to be just, 

And utter odious truth, that God would come 

To judge them with his Saints — him the Most High, 

Rapt in a balmy cloud, with winged steeds, 

Did, as thou saw'st, receive, to walk with God 

High in salvation and the climes of bliss, 

Exempt from death, to show thee what reward 

Awaits the good, the rest what punishment ; 

Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold." 

He looked, and saw the face of things quite changed. 
The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar; 
All now was turned to jollity and game. 
To luxury and riot, feast and dance, 
Marrying or prostituting, as befell, 
Rape or adultery, where passing fair 
Allured them ; thence from cups to civil broils. 
At length a reverend Sire among them came, 
And of their doings great dislike declared, 
And testified against their ways. Pie oft 
Frequented their assemblies, whereso met,* 
Triumphs or festivals, and to them preached 
Conversion and repentance, as to souls 
In prison, under judgment imminent; 



BOOK XI PARADISE LOST 341 

But all in vain. Which when he saw, he ceased 

Contending, and removed his tents far off; 

Then, from the mountain hewing timber tall, 

Began to build a Vessel of huge bulk, 

Measured by cubit, length, and breadth, and highth, 

Smeared round with pitchy and in the side a door 

Contrived, and of provisions laid in large 

For man and beast : when lo ! a wonder strange ! 

Of every beast, and bird, and insect small 

Came sevens and pairs, and entered in, as taught 

Their order; last, the Sire ?ind his three sons. 

With their four wives ; and God made fast the door. 

Meanwhile the South-wind rose, and, with black wing 

Wide-hovering, all the clouds together drove 

From under heaven ; the hills to their supply 

Vapour, and exhalation dusk and moist. 

Sent up amain; and now the thickened sky 

Like a dark ceiling stood : down rushed the rain 

Impetuous, and continued till the earth 

No more was seen. The floating Vessel swum 

Uplifted, and secure with beaked prow 

Rode tilting o'er the waves ; all dwellings else 

Flood overwhelmed, and them with all their pomp 

Deep under water rowled ; sea covered sea, 

Sea without shore : and in their palaces. 

Where luxury late reigned, sea-monsters whelped 

And stabled : of mankind so numerous late, 

All left in one small bottom swum imbarked. 

How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold 

The end of all thy offspring, end so sad. 

Depopulation ! Thee another flood. 

Of tears and sorrow a flood thee also drowned, 

And sunk thee as thy sons ; till, gently reared 

By the Angel, on thy feet thou stood'st at last. 

Though comfortless, as when a father mourns 

His children, all in view destroyed at once, 

And scarce to the Angel utter'dst thus thy plaint : — 

"O Visions ill foreseen! Better had I 
Lived ignorant of future — so had borne 
My part of evil only, each day's lot 



342 JOHN MILTON book xi 

Enough to bear. Those now that were dispensed 
The burden of many ages on me light 
At once, by my foreknowledge gaining birth 
Abortive, to torment me, ere their being, 
With thought that they must be. Let no man seek 
Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall 
Him or his children — evil, he may be sure, 
Which neither his foreknowing can prevent. 
And he the future evil shall no less 
In apprehension than in substance feel 
Grievous to bear. But that care now is past; 
Man is not whom to warn ; those few escaped 
Famine and anguish will at last consume. 
Wandering that watery desert. I had hope. 
When violence was ceased and war on Earth, 
All would have then gone well, peace would have 

crowned 
With length of happy days the race of Man ; 
But I was far deceived, for now I see 
Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste. 
How comes it thus? Unfold. Celestial Guide, 
And whether here the race of Man will end." 

To whom thus Michael : — " Those whom last thou 

saw'st 
In triumph and luxurious wealth are they 
First seen in acts of prowess eminent 
And great exploits, but of true virtue void; 
Who, having spilt much blood, and done much waste, 
Subduing nations, and achieved thereby 
Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey, 
Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth, 
Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and pride 
Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. 
The conquered, also, and enslaved by war, • 
Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose, 
And fear of God — from whom their piety feigned 
In sharp contest of battle found no aid 
Against invaders ; therefore, cooled in zeal, 
Thenceforth shall practise how to live secure, 
Worldly or dissolute, on what their lords 



BOOK XI PARADISE LOST 343 

Shall leave them to enjoy; for the Earth shall bear 

More than enough, that temperance may be tried. 

So all shall turn degenerate, all depraved, 

Justice and temperance, truth and faith, forgot; 

One man except, the only son of light 

In a dark age, against example good, 

Against allurement, custom, and a world 

Offended. Fearless of reproach and scorn, 

Or violence, he of their wicked ways 

Shall them admonish, and before them set 

The paths of righteousness, how much more safe 

And full of peace, denouncing wrauth to come 

On their impenitence, and shall return 

Of them derided, but of God observed 

The one just man alive: by his command 

Shall build a wondrous Ark, as thou beheld'st. 

To save himself and household from amidst 

A world devote to universal wrack. 

No sooner he, with them of man and beast 

Select for life, shall in the ark be lodged 

And sheltered round, but all the cataracts 

Of Heaven set open on the Earth shall pour 

Rain day and night ; all fountains of the deep, 

Broke up, shall heave the ocean to usurp 

Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise 

Above the highest hills. Then shall this Mount 

Of Paradise by might of waves be moved 

Out of his place, pushed by the horned flood. 

With all his verdure spoiled, and trees adrift, 

Down the great River to the opening Gulf, 

And there take root, an island salt and bare, 

The haunt of seals, and ores, and sea-mews' clang — 

To teach thee that God at'tributes to place 

No sanctity, if none be thither brought 

By men who there frequent or therein dwell. 

And now what furder shall ensue behold." 

He looked, and saw the Ark hull on the flood, 
Which now abated; for the clouds were fled. 
Driven by a keen North-wind, that, blowing dry, 
Wrinkled the face of Deluge, as decayed ; 



344 JOHN MILTON book xi 

And the clear sun on his wide watery glass 
Gazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, 
As after thirst; which made their flowing shrink 
From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole 
With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopt 
His sluices, as the heaven his windows shut. 
The Ark no more now floats, but seems on ground, 
Fast on the top of some high mountain fixed. 
And now the tops of hills as rocks appear; 
With clamour thence the rapid currents drive 
Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. 
Forthwith from out the ark a Raven flies, 
And, after him, the surer messenger, 
A Dove, sent forth once and again to spy 
Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light; 
The second time returning, in his bill 
An olive-leaf he brings, pacific sign. 
Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark 
The ancient sire descends, with all his train ; 
Then, with uplifted hands and eyes devout. 
Grateful to Heaven, over his head beholds 
A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a Bow 
Conspicuous with three listed colours gay. 
Betokening peace from God, and covenant new. 
Whereat the heart of Adam, erst so sad, 
Greatly rejoiced; and thus his joy broke forth: — 

" O thou, who future things canst represent 
As present. Heavenly Instructor, I revive 
At this last sight, assured that Man shall live, 
With all the creatures, and their seed preserve. 
Far less I now lament for one whole world 
Of wicked sons destroyed than I rejoice 
For one man found so perfet and so just 
That God voutsafes to raise another world 
From him, and all his anger to forget. 
But say what mean those coloured streaks in Heaven : 
Distended as the brow of God appeased? 
Or serve they as a flowery verge to bind 
The fluid skirts of that same watery cloud. 
Lest it again dissolve and shower the Earth ? " 



BOOK XII PARADISE LOST 345 

To whom the Archangel : — " Dextrously thou aim'st. 
So willingly cloth God remit his ire: 
Though late repenting him of Man depraved, 
Grieved at his heart, when, looking down, he saw 
The whole Earth filled with violence, and all flesh 
Corrupting each their way ; yet, those removed, 
Such grace shall one just man find in his sight 
That he relents, not to blot out mankind, 
And makes a covenant never to destroy 
The Earth again by flood, nor let the sea 
Surpass his bounds, nor rain to drown the world 
With man therein or beast ; but, when he brings 
Over the Earth a cloud, will therein set 
His triple-coloured bow, whereon to look 
And call to mind his Covenant. Day and night, 
Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost, 
Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new 
Both Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell." 



THE TWELFTH BOOK 

The Argument. — The Angel Michael continues, from the Flood, 
to relate what shall succeed : then, in the mention of Abraham, comes 
by degrees to explain who that Seed of the Woman shall be which 
was promised Adam and Eve in the Fall : his incarnation, death, 
resurrection, and ascension ; the state of the Church till his second 
coming. Adam, greatly satisfied and recomforted by these relations 
and promises, descends the hill with Michael ; wakens Eve, who all 
this while had slept, Init with gentle dreams composed to quietness 
of mind and submission. Michael in either hand leads them out of 
Paradise, the fiery Sword waving behind them, and the Cherubim 
taking their stations to guard the place. 

, As one who, in his journey, bates at noon. 
Though bent on speed, so here the Archangel paused 
Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored, 
If Adam aught perhaps might interpose; 
Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes: — 

" Thus thou hast seen one world begin and end. 
And Man as from a second stock proceed. 



346 JOHN MILTON book xi 

Much thou hast yet to see; but I perceive 
Thy mortal sight to fail; objects divine 
Must needs impair and weary human sense. 
Henceforth what is to come I will relate; 
Thou, therefore, give due audience, and attend. 

" This second source of men, while yet but few. 
And while the dread of judgment past remains 
Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity, 
With some regard to what is just and right 
Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace. 
Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop, 
Corn, wine and oil ; and, from the herd or flock 
Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid, 
With large wine-offerings poured, and sacred feast, 
Shall spend their days in joy unblamed, and dwell 
Long time in peace, by families and tribes, 
Under paternal rule, till one shall rise, 
Of proud, ambitious heart, who, not content 
With fair equality, fraternal state, 
Will arrogate dominion undeserved 
Over his brethren, and quite dispossess 
Concord and law of Nature from the Earth — 
Hunting (and men, not beasts, shall be his game) 
With war and hostile snare such as refuse 
Subjection to his empire tyrannous. 
(A mighty Hunter thence he shall be styled 
Before the Lord, as in despite of Heaven, 
Or from Heaven claiming second sovranty. 
And from rebellion shall derive his name, 
Though of rebellion others he accuse. 
He, with a crew, whom like ambition joins 
With him or under him to tyrannize, 
Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find 
The Plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge 
Boils out from under ground, the mouth of Hell. 
Of brick, and of that stuff, they cast to build 
A city and tower, whose top may reach to Heaven; 
And get themselves a name, lest far dispersed 
In foreign lands, their memory be lost — 
Regardless whether good or evil fame. 



BOOK XII PARADISE LOST 347 

But God, who oft descends to visit men 

Unseen, and through their habitations walks. 

To mark theip doings, them beholding soon, 

Comes down to see their city, ere the Tower 

Obstruct Heaven-towers, and in derision sets 

Upon their tongues a various spirit, to rase 

Quite out their native language, and, instead. 

To sow a jangling noise of words unknown. 

Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud 

Among the builders ; each to other calls, 

Not understood — till, hoarse and all in rage. 

As mocked they storm. Great laughter was in Heaven, 

And looking down to see the hubbub strange 

And hear the din. Thus was the building left 

Ridiculous, and the work Confusion named." 

Whereto thus Adam, fatherly displeased: — 
" O execrable son, so to aspire 
Above his brethren, to himself assuming 
Authority usurped, from God not given ! 
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl, 
Dominion absolute; that right we hold 
By his donation : but man over men 
He made not lord — such title to himself 
Reserving, human left from human free. 
But this Usurper his encroachment proud 
Stays not on Man ; to God his Tower intends 
Siege and defiance. Wretched man ! what food 
Will he convey up thither, to sustain 
Himself and his rash army, where thin air \ 

Above the clouds will pine his entrails gross, \ 

And famish him of breath, if not of bread?" \ 

To whom thus Michael : — " Justly thou abhorr'st ^ 

That son, who on the quiet state of men 
Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue 
Rational liberty ; yet know withal, 
Since thy original lapse, true liberty 
Is lost, which always with right reason dwells 
Twinned, and from her hath no dividual being. 
Reason in Man obscured, or not obeyed. 
Immediately inordinate desires 



348 JOHN MILTON BOOK xil 

And upstart passions catch the government 

From Reason, and to servitude reduce 

Man, till then free. Therefore, since he permits 

Within himself unworthy powers to reign 

Over free reason. God, in judgment just, 

Subjects him from without to violent lords, 

Who oft as undeservedly enthral 

His outward freedom. - Tyranny must be, 

Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse^; 

'Yet sometimes nations will decline so low 

From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong. 

But justice and some fatal curse annexed, 

Deprives them of their outward liberty. 

Their inward lost : witness the irreverent son 

Of him who built the Ark, who. for the shame 

Done to his father, heard this heavy curse, 

Scrz'cmt of scrz'ants, on his vicious race. 

Thus will this latter, as the former world. 

Still tend from bad to worse, till God at last, 

Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw 

His presence from among them, and avert 

His holy eyes, resolving from thenceforth 

To leave them to their own polluted ways, 

And one peculiar nation to select 

From all the rest, of whom to be invoked — 

A nation from one faithful man to spring. 

Him on this side Euphrates yet residing, 

Bred up in idol-worship — Oh, that men 

(Canst thou believe?) should be so stupid grown. 

While yet the patriarch lived who scaped the Flood, 

As to forsake the living God, and fall 

To worship their own work in wood and stone 

For gods ! — yet him God the Most High voutsafes 

To call by vision from his father's house. 

His kindred, and false gods into a land 

Which he will shew him, and from him will raise 

A mighty nation, and upon him shower 

His benedictions so that in his seed 

All Nations shall be blest. He straight obeys; 

Not knowing to what land, yet firm believes. 



BOOK XII PARADISE LOST 349 

I sec him, nut thou canst not. with what faith 

He leaves his gods, his friends, and native soil, 

Ur of Chald.xa, passing- now the ford 

To Haran — after him a cumhrous train 

Of herds and flocks, and numerous servitude — 

Not wandering poor, hut trusting all his wealth 

With God, who called him, in a land unknown 

Canaan he now attains ; I see his tents 

Pitched ahout Scchem, and the neighhouring plain 

Of Morch. There, hy i)romise, he receives 

Gift to his progeny of all that land. 

From Hamath northward to the Desert south 

(^(Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed), j 
From Hermon east to the great western sea; 
Mount Hermon, yonder sea, each place behold 
In prospect, as I point them : on the shore. 
Mount Carmel ; here, the double-founted stream, 
Jordan, true limit eastward; hut his sons 
Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills. 
This ponder, that all nations of the Earth 
Shall in his seed be blessed. By that seed 
Is meant thy great Deliverer, who shall bruise 
The Serpent's head ; whereof to thee anon 
Plainlier shall be revealed. This patriarch blest. 
Whom faithful Abr.aham due time shall call, 
A son, and of his son a grandchild, leaves. 
Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown. 
The grandchild, with twelve sons increased, departs 
From Canaan to a land hereafter called 

\ Egypt, divided by the river Nile; 
See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths 
Into the sea: To sojourn in that land 
He comes, invited by a younger son 
In time of dearth — a son whose worthy deeds 
Raise him to be the second in that realm 
Of Pharaoh. There he dies, and leaves his race 
Growing into a nation, and now grown 
Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks 
To stop their overgrowth, as iinnate guests 
Too numerous ; whence of guests he makes them slaves, 



350 JOHN MILTON book xil 

Inhospitably, and kills their infant males: 
Till, by two brethren (those two brethren call 
Moses and Aaron) sent from God to claim 
His people from enthralment, they return. 
With glory and spoil, back to their promised land. 
But first the lawless tyrant, who denies 
To know their God. or message to regard. 
Must be compelled by signs and judgments dire: 
To blood unshed the rivers must be turned ; 
Frogs, lice, and flies must all his palace fill 
With loathed intrusion, and fill all the land; 
His cattle must of rot and murrain die ; 
Botches and blains must all his flesh imboss. 
And all his people ; thunder mixed with hail, 
Hail mixed with fire, must rend the Egyptian sky, 
And wheel on the earth, devouring where it rolls ; 
What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain, 
A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down 
Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green; 
Darkness must overshadow all his bounds. 
Palpable darkness, and blot out three days ; 
Last, with one midnight-stroke, all the first-born 
Of Egypt must lie dead. Thus with ten wounds 
The River-dragon tamed at length submits 
To let his sojourners depart, and oft 
Humbles his stubborn heart, but still as ice 
More hardened after thaw ; till, in his rage 
Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the sea 
Swallows him with his host, but them lets pass, 
As on dry land, between two crystal walls. 
Awed by the rod of Moses so to stand 
Divided till his rescued gain their shore : 
Such wondrous power God to his Saint will lend, 
Though present in his Angel, who shall go 
Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire — 
By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire — 
To guide them in their journey, and remove 
Behind them, while the obdurate king pursues. 
All night he will pursue, but his approach 
Darkness defends between till morning-watch; 



BOOK Xll 



PARADISE LOST 351 



riicn through the fiery pillar and the cloud 

God looking forth will trouble all his host, 

And craze their chariot-wheels: when, by command, 

Moses once more his potent rod extends 

Over the sea ; the sea his rod obeys ; 

On their imbattled ranks the waves return, 

And overwhelm their war. The race elect 

Safe towards Canaan, from the shore, advance 

Through the wild Desert — not the readiest way, 

Lest, entering on the Canaanite alarmed. 

War terrify them inexpert, and fear 

Return them back to Egypt, choosing rather 

Inglorious life with servitude; for life 

To noble and ignoble is more sweet 

Untrained in arms, where rashness leads not on. 

This also shall they gain by their delay 

In the wide wilderness: there they shall found 

Their government, and their great Senate choose 

Through the twelve Tribes, to rule by laws ordained. 

God, from the Mount of Sinai, whose grey top 

Shall tremble, he descending, will himself. 

In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpet's sound. 

Ordain them laws — part, such as appertain 

To civil justice; part, religious rites 

Of sacrifice, informing them, by types 

And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise 

The Serpent, by what means he shall achieve 

Mankind's deliverance. But the voice of God 

To mortal ear is dreadful: they beseech 

That Moses might report to them his will. 

And terror cease ; he grants what they besought, 

Instructed that to God is no access 

Without Mediator, whose high ofiice now 

Moses in figure bears, to introduce 

One greater, of whose day he shall foretell. 

And all the Prophets, in their age, the times 

Of great Messiah shall sing. Thus laws and rites 

Established, such delight hath God in men 

Obedient to his will that he voutsafes_ 

Among them to set up his Tabernacle — 



352 JOHN MILTON BOOK xii 

The Holy One with mortal men to dwell. 

By his prcscrii^t a sanctuary is framed 

Of cedar, overlaid with gold; therein 

An ark, and in the Ark his testimony, 

The records of his covenant ; over these 

A mercy-seat of gold, between the wings 

Of two bright Cherubim; before him Inirn 

Seven lamps, as in a zodiac representing 

The heavenly fires. Over the tent a cloud 

Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night, 

Save when they journey; and at length they come, 

Conducted by his Angel, to the land 

Promised to Abraham and his seed. The rest 

Were long to tell — how many battles fought; 

How many kings destroyed, and kingdoms won ; 

Or how the sun shall in mid-heaven stand still 

A day entire, and night's due course adjourn, 

Man's voice commanding, ' Sun, in Gibeon stand, 

And thou, Moon, in the vale of Aialon, 

Till Israel overcome ! ' — so call the third 

From Abraham, son of Isaac, and from him 

His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win." 

Here Adam interposed : — " O sent from Heaven, 
Enlightener of my darkness, gracious things 
Thou hast revealed, those chiefly which concern 
Just Abraham and his seed. Now first I find 
Mine eyes true opening, and my heart much eased, 
Ercwhile perplexed with thoughts what would become 
Of me and all mankind; but now I see 
His day, in whom all nations shall be blest — 
Favour unmerited by me, who sought 
Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means. 
This yet I apprehend not — why to those 
Among whom God will deign to dwell on Earth 
So many and so various laws are given. 
So many laws argue so many sins 
Among them; how can God with such reside?" 

To whom thus Michael : — " Doubt not but that sin 
Will reign among them, as of thee begot ; 
And therefore was law given them, to evince 



BOOK XII PARADISE LOST 353 

Their natural pravity, by stirring up 

Sin against Law to fight that, when they see 

Law can discover sin, but not remove, 

Save by those shadowy expiations weak, 

The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude 

Some blood more precious must be ])aid for Man, 

Just for unjust, that in such righteousness, 

To them by faith imputed, they may find 

Justification towards God, and peace 

Of conscience, which the law by ceremonies 

Cannot appease, nor man the moral part 

Perform, and not performing cannot live. 

So Law appears imperfect, and but given 

With purpose to resign them, in full time, 

Up to a better covenant, disciplined 

From shadowy types to truth, from flesh to spirit. 

From imposition of strict laws to free 

Acceptance of large grace, from servile fear 

To filial, works of law to works of faith., 

And therefore shall not Moses, though of God 

Highly beloved, being but the minister 

Of Law, his people into Canaan lead ; 

But Joshua, whom the Gentiles Jesus call. 

His name and office bearing who shall quell 

The adversary Serpent, and bring back 

Through the world's wilderness long-wandered Man 

Safe to eternal Paradise of rest. 

Meanwhile they, in their earthly Canaan placed, 

Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins 

National interrupt their public peace, 

Provoking God to raise them enemies — 

From whom as oft he saves them penitent, 

By Judges first, then under Kings ; of whom 

The second, both for piety renowned 

And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive 

Irrevocable, that his regal throne 

For ever shall endure. The like shall sing 

All Prophecy — that of the royal stock 

Of David (so I name this king) shall rise 

A son, the Woman's Seed to thee foretold, 



354 JOHN MILTON BOOK xil 

Foretold to Abraham as in whom shall trust 

All nations, and to kings foretold of kings 

The last, for of his reign shall be no end. 

But first a long succession must ensue ; 

And his next son, for wealth and wisdom famed. 

The clouded Ark of God, till then in tents 

Wandering, shall in a glorious Temple enshrine. 

Such follow him as shall be registered 

Part good, part bad ; of bad the longer scroll : 

Whose foul idolatries and other faults. 

Heaped to the popular sum, will so incense 

God, as to leave them, and expose their land, 

Their city, his Temple, and his holy Ark, 

With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey 

To that proud city whose high walls thou saw'st 

Left in confusion, Babylon thence called. 

There in captivity he lets them dwell 

The space of seventy years ; then brings them back, 

Remembering mercy, and his covenant sworn 

To David, stablished as the days of Heaven. 

Returned from Babylon by leave of kings, 

Their lords, whom God disposed, the house of God 

They first re-edify, and for a while 

In mean estate live moderate, till, grown 

In wealth and multitude, factious they grow. 

But first among the priests dissension springs — 

Men who attend the altar, and should most 

Endeavour peace : their strife pollution brings 

Upon the Temple itself ; at last they seize 

The sceptre, and regard not David's sons ; 

Then lose it to a stranger, that the true 

Anointed King Messiah might be born 

Barred of his right. Yet at his birth a Star, 

Unseen before in heaven, proclaims him come, 

And guides the eastern sages, who inquire 

His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold: 

His place of birth a solemn Angel tells 

To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night; 

They gladly thither haste, and by a quire 

Of squadroned Angels hear his carol sung. 



BOOK XII PARADISE LOST 355 

A Virgin is his mother, but his sire 

The Power of the Most High. He shall ascend 

The throne hereditary, and bound his reign 

With Earth's wide bounds, his glory with the Heavens." 

He ceased, discerning Adam with such joy 
Surcharged as had, like grief, been dewed in tears, 
Without the vent of words ; which these he breathed : — 

" O prophet of glad tidings, finisher 
Of utmost hope ! now clear I understand 
What oft my steadiest thoughts have searched in 

vain — 
Why our great Expectation should be called 
The Seed of Woman. Virgin Mother, hail ! 
High in the love of Heaven, yet from my loins 
Thou shalt proceed, and from thy womb the Son 
Of God Most High ; so God with Man unites. 
Needs must the Serpent now his capital bruise 
Except with mortal pain. Say where and when 
Their fight, what stroke shall bruise the Victor's 
heel." 

To whom thus Michael : — " Dream not of their 
fight 
As of a duel, or the local wounds 
Of head or heel. Not therefore joins the Son 
Manhood to Godhead, with more strength to foil 
Thy enemy ; nor so is overcome 
Satan, whose fall from Heaven, a deadlier bruise, 
Disabled not to give thee thy death's wound ; 
Which he who comes thy Saviour shall recure. 
Not by destroying Satan, but his works 
In thee and in thy seed. Nor can this be, 
But by fulfilling that which thou didst want, 
Obedience to the law of God, imposed 
On penalty of death, and suffering death. 
The penalty to thy transgression due. 
And due to theirs which out of thine will grow: 
So only can high justice rest appaid. 
The Law of God exact he shall fulfil 
Both by obedience and by love, though love 
Alone fulfil the Law ; thy punishment 



356 JOHN MILTON BOOK xil 

He shall endure, by coming in the flesh 

To a reproachful life and cursed death, 

Proclaiming life to all who shall believe 

In his redemption, and that his obedience 

Imputed becomes theirs by faith — his merits 

To save them, not their own, though legal, works. 

For this he shall live hated, be blasphemed, 

Seized on by force, judged, and to death condemned 

A shameful and accursed, nailed to the Cross 

By his own nation, slain for bringing life; 

But to the cross he nails thy enemies — 

The Law that is against thee, and the sins 

Of all mankind, with him there crucified. 

Never to hurt them more who rightly trust 

In this his satisfaction. So he dies. 

But soon revives ; (Peath over him no power 

Shall long usurp. Ere the third dawning light 

Return, the stars of morn shall see him rise 

Out of his grave, fresh as the dawning light, 

Thy ransom paid, which Man from Death redeems — 

His death for Man, as many as offered life 

Neglect not, and the benefit imbrace 

By faith not void of works. i.This godlike act 

Annuls thy doom, the death thou shouldst have died, 

In sin for ever lost from life ; this act 

Shall bruise the head of Satan, crush his strength, 

Defeating Sin and Death, his two main arms. 

And fix far deeper in his head their stings 

Than temporal death shall bruise the Victor's heel, 

Or theirs whom he redeems — a death like sleep, 

A gentle wafting to immortal life. 

Nor after resurrection shall he stay 

Longer on Earth than certain times to appear 

To his disciples — men who in" his life 

Still followed him ; to them shall leave in charge 

To teach all nations what of him they learned 

And his salvation, them who shall believe 

Baptizing in the profluent stream — the sign 

Of washing them from guilt of sin to life 

Pure, and in mind prepared, if so befall, 



BOOK xir PARADISE LOST 357 

For death like that which the Redeemer died. 

All nations they shall teach ; for from that day 

Not only to the sons of Abraham's loins 

Salvation shall be preached, but to the sons 

Of Abraham's faith wherever through the world; 

So in his seed all nations shall be blest. 

Then to the Heaven of Heavens he shall ascend 

With victory, triumphing through the air 

Over his foes and thine ; there shall surprise 

The Serpent, Prince of Air, and drag in chains 

Through all his realm, and there confounded leave ; 

Then enter into glory and resume 

His seat at God's right hand, exalted high 

Above all names in Heaven; and thence shall come. 

When this World's dissolution shall be ripe, 

With glory and power, to judge both quick and 

dead — 
To judge the unfaithful dead, but to reward 
His faithful, and receive them into bliss. 
Whether in Heaven or Earth; for then the Earth 
Shall all be Paradise, far happier place 
Than this of Eden, and far happier days." 

So spake the Archangel Michael ; then paused, 
As at the World's great period; and our Sire, 
Replete with joy and wonder, thus replied: — 

" O Goodness infinite, Goodness immense, 
That all this good of evil shall produce, 
And evil turn to good — more wonderful 
Than that which by creation first brought forth 
Light out of darkness ! Full of doubt I stand, 
Whether I should repent me now of sin 
By me done and occasioned, or rejoice 
Much more that much more good thereof shall 

spring — 
To God more glory, more good-will to men 
From God — and over wrauth grace shall abound^ 
But say, if our Deliverer up to Heaven 
Must reascend, what will betide the few. 
His faithful, left among the unfaithful herd, 
The enemies of truth. Who then shall guide 

W HC IV 



358 JOHN MILTON BOOK XII 

His people, who defend? Will they not deal 
Worse with his followers than with him they dealt? " 
" Be sure they will," said the Angel ; " but from 
Heaven 
He to his own a Comforter will send. 
The promise of the Father, who shall dwell, 
His Spirit, within them, and the law of faith 
Working through love upon their hearts shall write. 
To guide them in all truth, and also arm 
With spiritual armour, able to resist 
Satan's assaults, and quench his fiery darts — 
What man can do against them not afraid. 
Though to the death • against such cruelties 
With inward consolations recompensed, 
And often supported so as shall amaze 
Their proudest persecutors. For the Spirit, 
Poured first on his Apostles, whom he sends 
To evangelize the nations, then on all 
Baptized, shall them with wondrous gifts endue 
To speak all tongues, and do all miracles, 
As did their Lord before them. Thus they win 
Great numbers of each nation to receive 
With joy the tidings brought from Heaven : at length, ' 
Their ministry performed, and race well run. 
Their doctrine and their story written left, 
They die ; but in their room, as they forewarn. 
Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves. 
Who all the sacred mysteries of Heaven 
To their own vile advantages shall turn 
Of lucre and ambition, and the truth 
With superstitions and traditions taint. 
Left only in those written Records pure. 
Though not but by the Spirit understood. 
Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names, 
Palaces, and titles, and with these to join 
Secular power, though feigning still to act 
By spiritual ; to themselves appropriating 
The Spirit of God, promised alike and given 
To all believers ; and, from that pretense. 
Spiritual laws by carnal power shall force 



BOOK XII ^ PARADISE LOST 359 

On every conscience — laws which none shall find 
Left them enrowlcd, or what the Spirit within 
Shall on the heart engrave. What will they then 
But force the Spirit of Grace itself, and bind 
His consort, Liberty? what but unbuild 
His living temples, built by faith to stand — 
Their own faith, not another's? for, on Earth, 
Who against faith and conscience can be heard 
Infallible? Yet many will presume: 
Whence heavy persecution shall arise 
On all who in the worship persevere 
Of Spirit and Truth.; the rest, far greater part, 
Will deem in outward rites and specious forms 
Religion satisfied ; Truth shall retire 
Bestuck with slanderous darts, and works of Faith 
Rarely be found. So shall the World go on. 
To good malignant, to bad men benign, 
Under her own weight groaning, till the day 
Appear of respiration to the just 
And vengeance to the wicked, at return 
Of Him so lately promised to thy aid. 
The Woman's Seed — obscurely then foretold. 
Now amplier known thy Saviour and thy Lord ; 
Last in the clouds from Heaven to be revealed 
In glory of the Father, to dissolve 
Satan with his perverted World ; then raise 
From the confiagrant mass, purged and refined, 
New Heavens, new Earth, Ages of endless date 
Founded in righteousness and peace and love, 
To bring forth fruits, joy and eternal bliss." 
He ended; and thus Adam last replied: — 
" How soon hath thy prediction. Seer blest, 
Measured this transient World, the race of Time, 
Till Time stand fixed ! Beyond is all abyss — 
Eternity, whose end no eye can reach. 
Greatly instructed I shall hence depart. 
Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill 
Of knowledge, what this vessel can contain; 
Beyond which was my folly to aspire. 
Henceforth I learn that to obey is best. 



360 JOHN MILTON book xii 

And love willi fear llio only C>o<\. to walk 
As ill his presciKT, ever lo observe 
J lis providence, and on him sole tlepeiul, 
Merciful over all his works, with good 
Still overcoming evil, and by small 
Accomplishing great things — by things deemed weak 
Subverting worldly-strong, and worldly-wise 
By simply meek ; that suffering for Truth's sake 
Is fortitude to highest victory, 
And to the faithful death the gate of life- 
Taught this by his example whom I now 
Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest.''; 

To whom thus also the Angel last^replied : — 
" This having learned, thou hast attained the sum 
Of wisiloni ; hope no higher, though all the stars 
Thou knew'st by name, and all the ethereal powers, 
All secrets of the Deep, all Nature's works. 
Or works of God in heaven, air, earth, or sea. 
And all the riches of this world enjoy "dst, 
And all the rule, one empire. Only add 
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable ; add faith ; 
Add virtue, patience, temperance : add love, 
By name to come called Charity, the soul 
(^f all the rest: then wilt thou not be loth 
To leave this Parailise, but shalt possess 
A Paradise within thee, happier far. 
Let us descend now, therefore, from this top 
Of speculation ; for the hour precise 
Exacts our parting hence; and, see! the guards, 
By me encamped on yonder hill, expect 
Their motion, at whose front a flaming sword. 
In signal of remove, waves fiercely round. 
We may no longer stay. Go, waken Eve ; 
Her also I with gentle dreams have calmed. 
Portending good, and all her spirits composed 
To meek submission: thou, at season fit. 
Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard — 
Chiefly what may concern her faith to know. 
The great deliverance by her seed to come 
(For by the Woman's Seed) on all mankind — 



HOOK XII I'AKAiJiSK LOST 361 

'I'lial yc may live, wliidi will lie many rlays, 
I'iOtli in one faith unanimous; ihougii sad 
With cause for evils past, yet iiiikIi more cheered 
With meditation on the ha^jty ( iid." 

He ended, and they IxAh descend the hill. 
Descended, Adam to the bower where ICve 
Lay sleepiiij^ ran before, but found her waked; 
And thus with words not sad she him received: — 

" Whence lliou rclurn'st and whillu;r weiit'sl I 
know ; 
For (jod is also in sleep, and dreams advise, , 
Which he hath sent propitious, some j^reat good 
I'resajiing, since, with sorrow and heart's distress 
Wearierl, I fell asleep. I'ut now lead fjn ; 
In me is no delay; with tiiee to go 
Is to stay here; without thee here to stay 
Is to go hence unwilling; thrni to mc 
Art all things under Heaven, all places thou. 
Who f(jr my wilful crime art banished hence. 
This further consolation yet secure 
I carry hence: though all l)y mc is lost. 
Such favour f unwfjrthy am voutsaf(;d. 
By mc the Promised Seed shall all restore." 

So spake our mother ICve ; and Adam heard 
Well ]jleased, but answererl not; for now too nigh 
The Archangel stood, and from the other hill 
To their fixed staticjn, all in bright array, 
The Cherubim descended, on the ground 
Cjliding meteorous, as evening mist 
Risen from a river o'er the marish gli<les, 
Anrl gathers ground fast at the labourer's heel 
Homeward returning. High in front advanced, 
The brandished sword of <Jod before iIkmu blazed, 
Fierce as a comet; which with tr>rrid heat, 
Anrl vapour at the Libyan air adust. 
Began to parch that temperate clime; whereat 
In either hand the hastening Angel caught 
Our lingering f'arents, and to the eastern gate 
Led them direct, anfl down the cliff as fast 
To the subjectecl plain — then (HsappearetD 



362 JOHN MILTON BOOK XII 

\ They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld 
Of Paradise, so late their happy seat. 
Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate 
With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms. 
Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon ; 
The world was all before them, where to choose 
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide. 
They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, 
Through Eden took their solitary way. 



PARADISE REGAINED 

1665-1667 

THE FIRST BOOK 

I WHO ercwhile the happy Garden sung 
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing 
5 Recovered Paradise to all mankind, 
By one man's firm obedience fully tried 
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled 
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed. 
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness. 

Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite 
Into the desert, his victorious field 
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 
By proof the undoul)tcd Son of God, inspire, 
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute, 
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds, 
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds 
Above heroic, though in secret done, 
And unrecorded left through many an age : 
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung. 

Now that the great Proclaimer, with a voice 
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried 
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked 
With awe the regions round, and with them came 
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed 
To the flood Jordan — came as then obscure, 
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon 
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore 
As to his worthier, and would have resigned 
363 



364 JOHN MILTON book I 

To him his heavenly office. Nor was long 
His witness unconfirmed : on him baptized 
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice 
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son. 
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still 
About the world, at that assembly famed 
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine 
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom 
Such high attest was given a while surveyed 
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage, 
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air 
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved, 
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst, 
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake: — 

" O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World 
(For much more willingly I mention Air, 
This our old conquest, than remember Hell, 
Our hated habitation), well ye know 
How many ages, as the years of men. 
This Universe we have possessed, and ruled 
In manner at our will the affairs of Earth, 
Since Adam and his facile consort Eve 
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since 
With dread attending when that fatal wound 
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve 
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven 
Delay, for longest time to Him is short; 
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours 
This dreaded time have compassed, wherein we 
Must bide the stroke of that long-threatened wound 
(At least, if so we can, and by the head 
Broken be not intended all our power 
To be infringed, our freedom and our being 
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air) — 
For this ill news I bring: The Woman's Seed, 
Destined to this, is late of woman born. 
His birth to our just fear gave no small cause; 
But his growth now to youth's full power, displaying 



DOOK I PARADISE REGAINED 365 

All virtue, grace and wisdom to achieve 
Things highest, greatest, multiplies my fear. 
Before him a great Prophet, to proclaim 
His coming, is sent harbinger, who all 
Invites, and in the consecrated stream 
Pretends to wash off sin, and fit them so 
Purified to receive him pure, or rather 
To do him honour as their King. All come, 
And he himself among them was baptized — 
Not thence to be more pure, but to receive 
The testimony of Heaven, that who he is 
Thenceforth the nations may not doubt. I saw 
The Prophet do him reverence ; on him, rising 
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds 
Unfold her crystal doors; thence on his head 
A perfet Dove descend (whate'er it meant) ; 
And out of Heaven the sovraign voice I heard, 
' This is my Son beloved, — in hinr am pleased.' 
His mother, then, is mortal, but his Sire 
He who obtains the monarchy of Heaven ; 
And what will He not do to advance his Son? 
His first-begot we know, and sore have felt. 
When his fierce thunder drove us to the Deep; 
Who this is we must learn, for Man he seems 
In all his lineaments, though in his face 
The glimpses of his Father's glory shine. 
Ye see our danger on the utmost edge 
Of hazard, which admits no long debate, 
But must with something sudden be opposed 
(Not force, but well-couched fraud, well-woven 

snares), 
Ere in the head of nations he appear, 
Their king, their leader, and supreme on Earth. 
I, when no other durst, sole undertook 
The dismal expedition to find out 
And ruin Adam, and the exploit performed 
Successfully: a calmer voyage now 
Will waft me ; and the way found prosperous once 
Induces best to hope of like success." 

He ended, and his words impression left 



366 JOHN MILTON BOOK I 

Of much amazement to the infernal crew, 
Distracted and surprised with deep dismay 
At these sad tidings. But no time was then 
For long indulgence to their fears or grief : 
Unanimous they all commit the care 
And management of this main enterprise 
To him, their great Dictator, whose attempt 
At first against mankind so well had thrived 
In Adam's overthrow, and led their march 
From Hell's deep-vaulted den to dwell in light, 
Regents, and potentates, and kings, yea gods. 
Of many a pleasant realm and province wide. 
So to the coast of Jordan he directs 
■ His easy steps, girded with snaky wiles. 

Where he might likeliest find this new-declared, 
This man of men, attested Son of God, 
Temptation and all guile on him to try — 
So to subvert whom he suspected raised 
To end his reign on Earth so long enjoyed: 
But, contrary, unweeting he fulfilled 
The purposed counsel, pre-ordained and fixed. 
Of the Most High, who, in full frequence bright 
Of Angels, thus to Gabriel smiling spake: — 

" Gabriel, this day, by proof, thou shalt behold. 
Thou and all Angels conversant on Earth 
With Man or men's affairs, how I begin 
To verify that solemn message late. 
On which I sent thee to the Virgin pure 
In Galilee, that she should bear a son. 
Great in renown, and called the Son of God. 
Then told'st her, doubting how these things could be 
To her a virgin, that on her should come 
The Holy Ghost, and the power of the Highest 
O'ershadow her. This Man, born and now upgrown. 
To shew him worthy of his birth divine 
And high prediction, henceforth I expose 
To Satan ; let him tempt, and now assay 
His utmost subtlety, because he boasts 
And vaunts of his great cunning to the throng 
Of his Apostasy. He might have learnt 



BOOK I PARADISE REGAINED 367 

Less overweening, since he failed in Job, 

Whose constant perseverance overcame 

Whate'er his cruel malice could invent. 

He now shall know I can produce a man, 

Of female seed, far abler to resist 

All his solicitations, and at length 

All his vast force, and drive him back to Hell — 

Winning by conquest what the first man lost 

By fallacy surprised. But first I mean 

To exercise him in the Wilderness ; 

There he shall first lay down the rudiments 

Of his great warfare, ere I send him forth 

To conquer Sin and Death, the two grand foes. 

By humiliation and strong sufferance 

His weakness shall o'ercome Satanic strength. 

And all the world, and mass of sinful flesh; 

That all the Angels and sethereal Powers^ 

They now, and men hereafter — may discern 

From what consummate virtue I have chose 

This perfet man, by merit called my Son, 

To earn salvation for the sons of men." 

So spake the Eternal Father, and all Heaven 
Admiring stood a space; then into hymns 
Burst forth, and in celestial measures moved, 
Circling the throne and singing, while the hand 
Sung with the voice, and this the argument: — 

" Victory and triumph to the Son of God, 
Now entering his great duel, not of arms 
But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles ! 
The Father knows the Son ; therefore secure 
Ventures his filial virtue, though untried. 
Against whate'er may tempt, whate'er seduce, 
Allure, or terrify, or undermine. 
Be frustrate, all ye stratagems of Hell, 
And, devilish machinations, come to nought ! " 

So they in Heaven their odes and vigils tuned. 
Meanwhile the Son of God, who yet some days 
Lodged in Bethabara, where John baptized, 
Musing and much revolving in his breast 
How best the mighty work he might begin 



368 JOHN MILTON BOOK 1 

Of Saviour to mankind, and which way first 

Publish his godhke olfice now mature, 

One day forth walked alone, the Spirit leading 

And his deep thoughts, the better to converse 

With solitude, till, far from track of men, 

Thought following thought, and step by step led on. 

He entered now the bordering Desert wild, 

And, with dark shades and rocks environed round. 

His holy meditations thus pursued : — 

" O what a multitude of thoughts at once 
Awakened in me swarm, while I consider 
What from within I feel myself, and hear 
What from without comes often to my ears, 
111 sorting with my present state compared ! 
When I was yet a child, no childish play 
To me was pleasing; all my mind was set 
Serious to learn and know, and thence to do, 
What might be public good; myself I thought 
Born to that end, born to promote all truth. 
All righteous things. Therefore, above my years. 
The Law of God I read, and found it sweet; 
Made it my whole delight, and in it grew 
To such perfection that, ere yet my age 
Had measured twice six years, at our great Feast 
I went into the Temple, there to hear 
The teachers of our Law, and to propose 
What might improve my knowledge or their own. 
And was admired by all. Yet this not all 
To which my spirit aspired. Victorious deeds 
Flamed in my heart, heroic acts — one while 
To rescue Israel from the Roman yoke ; 
Then to subdue and quell, o'er all the earth, 
Brute violence and proud tyrannic power, 
Till truth were freed, and equity restored : 
Yet held it more humane, more heavenly, first 
By winning words to conquer willing hearts. 
And make persuasion do the work of fear ; 
At least to try, and teach the erring soul. 
Not wilfully misdoing, but vmware 
Misled ; the stubborn only to subdue. 



BOOK I PARADISE REGAINED 369 

These growing thoughts my mother soon perceiving, 
By words at times cast forth, inly rejoiced, 
And said to me apart, ' High are thy thoughts, 

Son ! hut nourish them, and let them soar 
To what highth sacred virtue and true worth 
Can raise them, though above example high ; 
By matchless deeds express thy matchless Sire. 
For know, thou art no son of mortal man ; 
Though men esteem thee low of parentage, 
Thy Father is tlie Eternal King who rules 

All Heaven and Earth, Angels and sons of men 

A messenger from God foretold thy birth 

Conceived in me a virgin ; he foretold 

Thou shouldst be great, and sit on David's throne, 

And of thy kingdom there should be no end. 

At thy nativity a glorious quire 

Of Angels, in the fields of Bethlehem, sung 

To shepherds, watching at their folds by night, 

And told them the Messiah now was born, 

Where they might see him ; and to thee they came, 

Directed to the manger where thou lay'st ; 

For in the inn was left no better room. 

A Star, not seen before, in heaven appearing. 

Guided the Wise Men thither from the East, 

To honour thee with incense, myrrh, and gold ; 

By whose bright course led on they found the place, 

Affirming it thy star, new-graven in heaven. 

By which they knew thee King of Israel born. 

Just Simeon and prophetic Anna, warned 

By vision, found thee in the Temple, and spake. 

Before the altar and the vested priest. 

Like things of thee to all that present stood.' 

This having heard, straight I again revolved 

The Law and Prophets, searching what was writ 

Concerning the Messiah, to our scribes 

Known partly, and soon found of whom they spake 

1 am — this chiefly, that my way must lie 
Through many a hard assay, even to the death. 
Ere I the promised kingdom can attain. 

Or work redemption for mankind, whose sins' 



370 JOHN MILTON book I 

Full weight must be transferred upon my head. 

Yet, neither thus disheartened or dismayed, 

The time prefixed I waited; when behold 

The Baptist (of whose birth I oft had heard, 

Not knew by sight) now come, who was to come 

Before Messiah, and his way prepare ! 

I, as all others, to his baptism came. 

Which I believed was from above ; but he 

Straight knew me, and with loudest voice proclaimed 

Me him (for it was shewn him so from Heaven) — 

Me him whose harbinger he was ; and first 

Refused on me baptism to confer. 

As much his greater, and was hardly won. 

But, as I rose out of the laving stream. 

Heaven opened her eternal doors, from whence 

The Spirit descended on me like a Dove ; 

And last, the sum of all, my Father's voice. 

Audibly heard from Heaven, pronounced me his. 

Me his beloved Son, in whom alone 

He was well pleased : by which I knew the time 

Now full, that I no more should live obscure, 

But openly begin, as best becomes 

The authority which I derived from Heaven. 

And now by some strong motion I am led 

Into this wilderness ; to what intent 

I learn not yet. Perhaps I need not know ; 

For what concerns my knowledge God reveals." 

So spake our Morning Star, then in his rise. 
And, looking round, on every side beheld 
A pathless desert, dusk with horrid shades. 
The way he came, not having marked return, 
Was difficult, by human steps untrod; 
And he still on was led, but with such thoughts 
Accompanied of things past and to come 
Lodged in his breast as well might recommend 
Such solitude before choicest society. 

Full forty days he passed — whether on hill 
Sometimes, anon in shady vale, each night 
Under the covert of some ancient oak 
Or cedar to defend him from the dew. 



BOOK I PARADISE REGAINED 371 

Or harboured in one cave, is not revealed; 
Nor tasted human food, nor hunger felt, 
Till those days ended ; hungered then at last 
Among wild beasts. They at his sight grew mild, 
Nor sleeping him nor waking harmed ; his walk 
The fiery serpent fled and noxious worm ; 
The lion and fierce tiger glared aloof. 
But now an aged man in rural weeds, 
Following, as seemed, the quest of some stray ewe, 
Or withered sticks to gather, which might serve 
Against a winter's day, when winds blow keen, 
To warm him wet returned from field at eve. 
He saw approach ; who first with curious eye 
Perused him, then with words thus uttered spake: — 

" Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place, 
So far from path or road of men, who pass 
In troop or caravan, for single none 
Durst ever, who returned, and dropt not here 
His carcass, pined with hunger and with droughth. 
I ask the rather, and the more admire. 
For that to me thou seem'st the man whom late 
Our new baptizing Prophet at the ford 
Of Jordan honoured so, and called thee Son 
Of God. I saw and heard, for we sometimes 
Who dwell this wild, constrained by want, come forth 
To town or village nigh (nighest is far), 
Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear, 
What happens new ; fame also finds us out." 

To whom the Son of God: — "Who brought me 
hither 
Will bring me hence ; no other guide I seek." 

" By miracle he may," replied the swain ; 
" What other way I see not ; for we here 
Live on tough roots and stubs, to thirst inured 
More than the camel, and to drink go far — 
Men to much misery and hardship born. 
But, if thou be the Son of God, command 
That out of these hard stones be made thee bread; 
So shalt thou save thyself, and us relieve 
With food, whereof we wretched seldom taste." 



372 JOHN MILTON BOOK I 

He ended, and the Son of God replied : — 
" Think'st thou such force in bread ? Is it not written 
(For I discern thee other than thou seem'st), 
Man lives not by bread only, but each word 
Proceeding from the mouth of God, who fed 
Our fathers here with manna? In the Mount 
Moses was forty days, nor eat nor drank; 
And forty days Eliah without food 
Wandered this barren waste; the same I now. 
Why dost thou, then, suggest to me distrust, 
Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art?" 

Whom thus answered the Arch-Fiend, now un- 
disguised : — 
" 'T is true, I am that Spirit unfortunate 
Who, leagued with millions more in rash revolt, 
Kept not my happy station, but was driven 
\yith them from bliss to the bottomless Deep — 
Yet to that hideous place not so confined 
By rigour unconniving but that oft. 
Leaving my dolorous prison, I enjoy 
Large liberty to round this globe of Earth, 
Or range in the Air; nor from the Heaven of Heavens 
Hath he excluded my resort sometimes. 
I came, among the Sons of God, when he 
Gave up into my hands Uzzean Job, 
To prove him, and illustrate his high worth; 
And, when to all his Angels he proposed 
To draw the proud king Ahab into fraud, 
That he might fall in Ramoth, they demurring, 
I undertook that office, and the tongues 
Of all his flattering prophets glibbed with lies 
To his destruction, as I had in charge : 
For what he bids I do. Though I have lost 
Much lustre of my native brightness, lost 
To be beloved of God, I have not lost 
To love, at least contemplate and admire, 
What I see excellent in good, or fair. 
Or virtuous ; I should so have lost all sense. 
What can be then less in me than desire 
To see thee and approach thee, whom I know 



DOOK I PARADISE REGAINED ' 373 

Declared the Son of God, to hear attent 

Thy wisdom, and behold thy godlike deeds? 

Men generally think me much a foe 

To all mankind. Why should I? they to me 

Never did wrong or violence. By them 

I lost not what I lost; rather by them 

I gained what I have gained, and with them dwell 

Copartner in these regions of the World, 

If not disposer — lend them oft my aid, 

Oft my advice by presages and signs, 

And answers, oracles, portents, and dreams, 

Whereby they may direct their future life. 

Envy, they say, excites me, thus to gain 

Companions of my misery and woe ! 

At first it may be; but, long since with woe 

Nearer acquainted, now I feel by proof 

That fellowship in pain divides not smart. 

Nor lightens aught each man's peculiar load; 

Small consolation, then, were Man adjoined. 

This wounds me most (what can it less?) that, Man, 

Man fallen, shall be restored, I never more." 

To whom our Saviour sternly thus replied: — 
" Deservedly thou griev'st, composed of lies 
From the beginning, and in lies wilt end, 
Who boast'st release from Hell, and leave to come 
Into the Heaven of Heavens. Thou com'st indeed. 
As a poor miserable captive thrall 
Comes to the place where he before had sat 
Among the prime in splendour, now deposed. 
Ejected, emptied, gazed, unpitied, shunned, 
A spectacle of ruin, or of scorn. 
To all the host of Heaven. The happy place 
Imparts to thee no happiness, no joy — 
Rather inflames thy torment, representing 
Lost bliss, to thee no more communicable ; 
So never more in Hell than when in Heaven. 
But thou art serviceable to Heaven's King! 
Wilt thou impute to obedience what thy fear 
Extorts, or pleasure to do ill excites? 
What but thy malice moved thee to misdeem 

X IICIV 



374 JOHN MII/rON book i 

Of righteous Job, tlion oruolly to afflict him 

With all itiilictions ? hut liis patiriR-o won. 

The other service was thy choseu task. 

To be a liar in four hiuulreil mouths ; 

h'or lying is thy sustenance, thy food. 

Vet thou pretend'st to truth ! all oracles 

By thee are given, and what confessed more true 

Among the natiotis? That hath been thy craft, 

By mixing somewhat true to vent more lies. 

But what have been thy answers? what but dark, 

Ambiguous, and with double sense deluding, 

Which they who asked have .seldom understood. 

And, not well understood, as good not known? 

Who ever, by consulting at thy shrine. 

Returned the wiser, or the more instruct 

To fly or follow what concerned him most. 

And run not sooner to his fatal snare ? 

For God hath justly given the nations up 

To thy delusions; justly, since they fell 

Idolatrous. But, when his purpose is 

Among them to declare his providence. 

To thee not known, whence hast thou then thy truth, 

But from him, or his Angels president 

In every provitice, who, themselves ilisdaining 

To approach thy temples, give thee in command 

What, to the smallest tittle, thou shalt say 

To thy adorers? Thou, with trembling fear, 

Or like a fawning parasite, obey'st ; 

Then to thyself ascrib'st the truth foretold. 

But this thy glory shall be soon retrenched ; 

No more shalt thou by oracling abuse 

The ( RMitiles ; henceforth oracles are ceased. 

And thou no tuore with pomp and sacrifice 

Shalt be enquired at Delphos or elsewhere — 

At least in vain, for they shall find thee mute. 

God hath now sent his living Oracle 

Into the world to teach his final will. 

And sends his Spirit of Truth henceforth to dwell 

In pious hearts, an inward oracle 

To all truth requisite for men to know." 



ROOK t PARADISE RKGAINED 375 

S(i spake our Saviour ; hut the suhtle Fiend, 
Though inly stuu}:^ with aiij^cr and (hs(hiin, 
nissenil)lecl, and this answer smooth returned: — 

" Shar])Iy thou hast insisted on rehuke, 
And urjj^ed nic hard with doings which not will, 
But misery, hath wrested from me. Where 
Easily canst thou find one miserable, 
And not inforccd oft-times to part from truth, 
If it may stand him more in stead to lie, 
Say and unsay, feign, flatter, or ahjure? 
Hut thou art placed ahove me; thou art Lord; 
h'rnm thee I can, and nuist, submiss, endure 
Check or reproof, and glad to scape so (piit. 
Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk. 
Smooth on the tongue discoursed, pleasing to the ear, 
And tunable as sylvan pii)e or song; 
What wonder, then, if I delight to hear 
Her dictates from thy mouth? most men admire 
Virtue who follow not her lore. Permit me » 

To hear thee when I come (since no man comes), 
And talk at least, though I despair to attain. 
Thy Father, who is holy, wise, and pure, 
Suffers the hypocrite or atheous priest 
To tread his sacred courts, and minister 
About his altar, handling holy things. 
Praying or vowing, and voutsafed his voice 
To Balaam reprobate, a prophet yet 
Inspired: disdain not such access to me." 

To whom our Saviour, with unaltered brow : — 
" Thy coming hither, though I know thy scope, 
I bid not, or forbid. Do as thou find'st 
Permission from above ; thou canst not more." 

He added not; and Sat;iii, bowing low 
His gray dissinuilation. disappeared. 
Into thin air diffused: for now began 
Night with her sullen wing to double-shade 
The desert; fowls in their clay nests were couched; 
And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam. 



376 JOHN MILTON BOOK II 



THE SECOND BOOK 

Mkanvvihi.f. the ncw-haptizcd. who yet remained 

At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen 

Him whom they heard so late expressly called 

Jesus Messiah, Son of God, declared. 

And on that high authority had helievcd, 

And with him talked, and with him lodged — I mean 

Andrew and Simon, famous after known, 

With others, though in Holy Writ not named — 

Now missing him, their joy so lately found, 

So lately found and so abruptly gone. 

Began to doubt, and doubted many days, 

And, as the days increased, increased their doubt. 

Sometimes they thought he might be only shewn, 

And for a time caught up to God. as once 

Moses was in the Mount and missing long, 

And the great Thisbite, who on fiery wheels 

Rode up to Heaven, yet once again to come. 

Therefore, as those yoimg prophets then with care 

Sought lost Eliah, so in each place these 

Nigh to Bethabara — in Jericho 

The city of palms, ^ILnon, and Salem old, 

Mach;erus, and each town or city walled 

On this side the broad lake Genezaret, 

Or in Pera^a — but returned in vain. 

Then on the bank of Jordan, by a creek, 

Where winds with reeds and osiers whispering play, 

Plain fishermen (no greater men them call), 

Close in a cottage low together got. 

Their unexpected loss and jilaiiits outbreathcd: — 

" Alas, from what high hope to what relapse 
Unlookcd for are we fallen ! Our eyes beheld 
Messiah certainly now come, so long 
Expected of our fathers ; we have heard 
His words, his wisdom full of grace and truth. 
' Now, now, for sure, deliverance is at hand ; 
The kingdom shall to Israel be restored :' 
Thus we rejoiced, but soon our joy is turned 



BOOK II PARAUISK REGAINED 377 

Into perplexity and new amaze. 

I-'or whither is he gone? what accident 

Ifath rapt him from us? will he now retire 

After appearance, and again prolong 

Our expectation? fJod of Israel, 

Send thy Messiah forth ; the time is come. 

Behold the kings of the earth, how they oppress 

Thy Chosen, to what highth their power unjust 

They have exalted, and behind them cast 

All fear of Thee; arise, and vinrlicate 

Thy glory; free thy people from their yoke! 

But let us wait; thus far He hath performed — 

Sent his Anointed, and to us revealed him 

By his great Prophet pointed at and shown 

In public, and with him we have conversed. 

Let us be glad of this, and all our fears 

Lay on his providence ; He will not fail. 

Nor will withdraw him now, nor will recall — 

Mock us with his blest sight, then snatch him hence: 

Soon we shall see our hope, our joy, return." 

Thus they out of their plaints new hope resume 
To find whom at the first they found unsought. 
But to his mother Mary, when she saw 
Others returned from baptism, not her Son, 
Nor left Jordan tidings of him none. 
Within her breast though calm, her breast though pure, 
Motherly cares and fears got head, and raised 
Some troubled thoughts, which she in sighs thus clad: — 

" Oh, what avails me now that honour high, 
To have conceived of God, or that salute, 
'Hail, highly favoured, among women blest!' 
While I to sorrows am no less advanced, 
And fears as eminent above the lot 
Of other women, by the birth I bore: 
In such a season born, when scarce a shed 
Could be obtained to shelter him or me 
From the bleak air? A stable was our warmth, 
A manger his; yet soon enforced to fly 
Thence into Kgypt, till the murderous king 
Were dead, who sought his life, and, missing, filled 



378 JOHN MILTON BOOK ll 

With infant blood the streets of Bethlehem. 

From Egypt home returned, in Nazareth 

Hath been our dwelling many years; his life 

Private, unactive, calm, contemplative, 

Little suspicious to any king. But now. 

Full grown to man, acknowledged, as I hear, 

By John the Baptist, and in public shewn. 

Son owned from Heaven by his Father's voice, 

I looked for some great change. To honour ? no ; 

But trouble, as old Simeon plain foretold. 

That to the fall and rising he should be 

Of many in Israel, and to a sign 

Spoken against — that through my very soul 

A sword shall pierce. This my favoured lot, 

My exaltation to afflictions high ! 

Afflicted I may be, it seems, and blest ! 

I will not argue that, nor will repine. 

But where delays he now ? Some great intent 

Conceals him. When twelve years he scarce had seen, 

I lost him, but so found as well I saw 

He could not lose himself, but went about 

His Father's business. What he meant I mused — 

Since understand; much more his absence now 

Thus long to some great purpose he obscures. 

But I to wait with patience am inured ; 

My heart hath been a storehouse long of things 

And sayings laid up, portending strange events." 

Thus Mary, pondering oft, and oft to mind 
Recalling what remarkably had passed 
Since first her Salutation heard, with thoughts 
Meekly composed awaited the fulfilling: 
The while her Son, tracing the desert wild. 
Sole, but with holiest meditations fed. 
Into himself descended, and at once 
All his great work to come before him set — 
How to begin, how to accomplish best 
His end of being on Earth, and mission high. 
For Satan, with sly preface to return. 
Had left him vacant, and with speed was gone 
Up to the middle region of thick air. 



BOOK II PARADISE REGAINED 379 

Where all his Potentates in council sate. 
There, without sign of boast, or sign of joy, 
Solicitous and blank, he thus began : — 

" Princes, Heaven's ancient Sons, ^Ethereal Thrones — 
D?emonian Spirits now, from the element 
Each of his reign allotted, rightlier called 
Powers of Fire, Air, Water, and Earih beneath 
(So may we hold our place and these mild seats 
Without new trouble!) — such an enemy 
Is risen to invade us, who no less 
Threatens than our expulsion down to Hell. 
I, as I undertook, and with the vote 
Consenting in full frequence was impowered, 
Have found him, viewed him, tasted him ; but find 
Far other labour to be undergone 
Than when I dealt with Adam, first of men, 
Though Adam by his wife's allurement fell. 
However to this Man inferior far — 
If he be Man by mother's side, at least 
With more than human gifts from Heaven adorned. 
Perfections absolute, graces divine. 
And amplitude of mind to greatest deeds. 
Therefore I am returned, lest confidence 
Of my success with Eve in Paradise 
Deceive ye to persuasion over-sure 
Of like succeeding here. I summon all 
Rather to be in readiness with hand 
Or counsel to assist, lest I, who erst 
Thought none my equal, now be overmatched." 

So spoke the old Serpent, doubting, and from all 
With clamour was assured their utmost aid 
At his command ; when from amidst them rose 
Belial, the dissolutest Spirit that fell. 
The sensualest, and, after Asmodai, 
The fleshliest Incubus, and thus advised : — 

" Set women in his eye and in his walk, 
Among daughters of men the fairest found. 
Many are in each region passing fair 
As the noon sky, more like to goddesses 
Than mortal creatures, graceful and discreet. 



380 JOHN MILTON hook ii 

Expcrl in amorous arts, cncliantiii};- tonp^ucs 

Persuasive, virs^in majesty with mild 

And sweet allayed, yet terrible to approach, 

Skilled to retire, and in retiring draw 

Hearts after them tangled in amorous nets. 

Such object hath the power to soften and tame 

Severest temper, smooth the rugged'st brow, ^ 

Enerve, and with voluptuous hope dissolve, 

Draw out with credulous desire, and lead 

At will the manliest, resolutest breast, 

As the magnetic hardest iron draws. 

Women, when nothing else, beguiled the heart 

Of wisest Solomon, and made him build, 

And made him bow, to the gods of bis wives." 

To whom quick answer Satan thus returned: — 
" Belial, in much uneven scale thou weigh'st 
All others by thyself. Because of old 
Thou thyself doat'st on womankind, admiring 
Their shape, their colour, and attractive grace, 
None are, thou think'st, but taken with such toys. 
Before the Flood, thou, with thy husty crew. 
False titled Sons of God, roaming the Earth, 
Cast wanton eyes on the daughters of men, 
And coupled with them, and begot a race. 
Have we not seen, or by relation heard. 
In courts and regal chambers how thou lurk'st, 
In wood or grove, by mossy fountain-side, 
In valley or green meadow, to waylay 
Some beauty rare, Calisto, Clymene, 
Daphne, or Scmcle, Antiopa, 
Or Aniymone, Syrinx, many more 
Too long — then lay'st thy scapes on names adored, 
Apollo, Neptune, Jupiter, or Pan, 
Satyr, or Faun, or Silvan? But these haunts 
Delight not all. Among the sons of men 
How many have with a smile made small account 
Of beauty and her lures, easily scorned 
All her assaults, on worthier things intent! 
Remember that Pelican conqueror, 
A youth, how all the beauties of the East 



BOOK 11 PARADISE REGAINED 381 

He slightly viewed, and slightly overpassed; 

How he surnamed of Africa dismissed, 

In his prime youth, the fair Iberian maid. 

For Solomon, he lived at ease, and, full 

Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond 

Higher design than to enjoy his state ; 

Thence to the bait of women lay exposed. 

But he whom we attempt is wiser far 

Than Solomon, of more exalted mind. 

Made and set wholly on the accomplishment 

Of greatest things. What woman will you find, 

Though of this age the wonder and the fame, 

On whom his leisure will voutsafcd an eye 

Of fond desire? Or should she, confident, 

As sitting queen adored on Beauty's throne. 

Descend with all her winning charms begirt 

To enamour, as the zone of Venus once 

Wrought that effect on Jove (so fables tell), 

How would one look from his majestic brow, 

Seated as on the top of Virtue's hill, 

Discountenance her despised, and jjut to rout 

All her array, her female pride deject. 

Or turn to reverent awe ! For Beauty stands 

In the admiration only of weak minds 

Led captive ; cease to admire, and all her plumes 

Fall flat, and shrink into a trivial toy. 

At every sudden slighting quite abashed. 

Therefore, with manlier objects we must try 

His constancy — with such as have more shew 

Of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise 

(Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wrecked) ; 

Or that which only seems to satisfy 

Lawful desires of nature, not beyond. 

And now I know he hungers, where no food 

Is to be found, in the wide Wilderness : 

The rest commit to me; I shall let pass 

No advantage, and his strength as oft assay." 

He ceased, and heard their grant in loud acclaim; 
Then forthwith to him takes a chosen band 
Of Spirits likest to himself in guile, 



382 JOHN MILTON BOOK U 

To be at hand and at his beck appear, 

If cause were to unfold some active scene 

Of various persons, each to know his part ; 

Then to the desert takes with these his flight, 

Where still, from shade to shade, the Son of God, 

After forty days' fasting, had remained, 

Now hungering first, and to himself thus said: — 

"Where will this end? Four times ten days I have 
passed 
Wandering this woody maze, and human food 
Nor tasted, nor had appetite. That fast 
To virtue I impute not, or count part 
Of what I suffer here. If nature need not, 
Or God support nature without repast, 
Though needing, what praise is it to endure? 
But now I feel I hunger ; which declares 
Nature hath need of what she asks. Yet God 
Can satisfy that need some other way, 
Though hunger still remain. So it remain 
Without this body's wasting, I content me, 
And from the sting of famine fear no harm ; 
Nor mind it, fed with better thoughts, that feed 
Me hungering more to do my Father's will." 

It was the hour of night, when thus the Son 
Communed in silent walk, then laid him down 
Under the hospitable covert nigh 
Of trees thick interwoven. There he slept, 
And dreamed, as appetite is wont to dream. 
Of meats and drinks, nature's refreshment sweet. 
Him thought he by the brook of Cherith stood. 
And saw the ravens with their horny beaks 
Food to Elijah bringing even and morn — 
Though ravenous, taught to abstain from what they 

brought ; 
He saw the Prophet also, how he fled 
Into the desert, and how there he slept 
Under a juniper — then how, awaked. 
He found his supper on the coals prepared, 
And by the Angel was bid rise and eat. 
And eat the second time after repose. 



BOOK II PARADISE REGAINED 383 

The strength whereof sufficed him forty days : 

Sometimes that with Elijah he partook, 

Or as a guest with Daniel at his pulse. 

Thus wore out night; and now the harald Lark 

Left his ground-nest, high towering to descry 

The Morn's approach, and greet her with his song. 

As lightly from his grassy couch up rose 

Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream; 

Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting waked. 

Up to a hill anon his steps he reared. 

From whose high top to ken the prospect round, 

If cottage were in view, sheep-cote, or herd; 

But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw — 

Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove, 

With chaunt of tuneful birds resounding loud. 

Thither he bent his way, determined there 

To rest at noon, and entered soon the shade 

High-roofed, and walks beneath, and alleys brown, 

That opened in the midst a woody scene ; 

Nature's own work it seemed (Nature taught Art), 

And, to a superstitious eye, the haunt 

Of wood-gods and wood-nymphs. He viewed it round; 

When suddenly a man before him stood, 

Not rustic as before, but seemlier clad, 

As one in city or court or palace bred. 

And with fair speech these words to him addressed : — 

" With granted leave officious I return. 
But much more wonder that the Son of God 
In this wild solitude so long should bide, 
Of all things destitute, and, well I know, 
Not without hunger. Others of some note, 
As story tells, have trod this wilderness: 
The fugitive Bond-woman, with her son, 
Outcast Nebaioth, yet found here relief 
By a providing Angel ; all the race 
Of Israel here had famished, had not God 
Rained from heaven manna ; and that Prophet bold, 
Native of Thebez, wandering here, was fed 
Twice by a voice inviting him to eat. 
Of thee these forty days none hath regard. 



384 JOHN MILTON book ii 

Forty and more deserted here indeed." 

To whom thus Jesus : — " What conchid'st thou hence ? 
They all had need ; I, as thou seest, have none." 

"How hast thou hunger then?" Satan replied. 
" Tell me, if food were now before thee set, 
Wouldst thou not eat ? " " Thereafter as I like 
The giver," answered Jesus. " Why should that 
Cause thy refusal?" said the subtle Fiend. 
"Hast thou not right to all created things? 
Owe not all creatures, by just right, to thee 
Duty and service, nor to stay till bid, 
But tender all their power? Nor mention I 
Meats by the law unclean, or offered first 
To idols — those young Daniel could refuse; 
Nor proffered by an enemy — though who 
Would scruple that, with want oppressed ? Behold, 
Nature ashamed, or, better to express, 
Troubled, that thou shouldst hunger, hath purveyed 
From all the elements her choicest store. 
To treat thee as beseems, and as her Lord 
With honour. Only deign to sit and eat." 

He spake no dream; for, as his words had end, 
Our Saviour, lifting up his eyes, beheld. 
In ample space under the broadest shade, 
A table richly spread in regal mode. 
With dishes piled and meats of noblest sort 
And savour — beasts of chase, or fowl of game, 
In pastry built, or from the spit, or boiled. 
Grisamber-steamed ; all fish, from sea or shore, 
Freshet or purling brook, of shell or fin, 
And exquisitest name, for which was drained 
Pontus, and Lucrine bay, and Afric coast 
Alas ! how simple, to these cates compared, 
Was that crude Apple that diverted Eve ! 
And at a stately sideboard, by the wine. 
That fragrant smell diffused, in order stood 
Tall stripling youths rich-clad, of fairer hue 
Than Ganymed or Hylas ; distant more, 
Under the trees now tripped, now solemn stood. 
Nymphs of Diana's train, and Naiades 



BOOK II PARADISE REGAINED 385 

With fruits and flowers from Amalthea's horn, 

And ladies of the Hespcrides, that seemed 

Fairer than feigned of old, or fabled since 

Of faery damsels met in forest wide 

By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, 

Lancelot, or Pcllcas, or Pcllcnorc. 

And all the while harmonious airs were heard 

Of chiming strings or charming pipes ; and winds 

Of gentlest gale Arabian odours fanned 

From their soft wings, and Flora's earliest smells. 

Such was the splendour ; and the Tempter now 

His invitation earnestly renewed : — 

" What doubts the Son of God to sit and cat ? 
These are not fruits forbidden ; no interdict 
Defends the touching of these viands pure ; 
Their taste no knowledge works, at least of evil, 
But life preserves, destroys life's enemy, 
Hunger, with sweet restorative delight. 
All these are Spirits of air, and woods, and springs. 
Thy gentle ministers, who come to pay 
Thee homage, and acknowledge thee their Lord. 
What doubt'st thou, Son of God? Sit down and eat." 

To whom thus Jesus temperately replied : — 
" Said'st thou not that to all things I had right ? 
And who withholds my power that right to use? 
Shall I receive by gift what of my own. 
When and where likes me best, I can command? 
I can at will, doubt not, as soon as thou. 
Command a table in this wilderness. 
And call swift flights of Angels ministrant, 
Arrayed in glory, on my cup to attend : 
Why shouldst thou, then, obtrude this diligence 
In vain, where no acceptance it can find? 
And with my hunger what hast thou to do? 
Thy pompous delicacies I contemn. 
And count thy specious gifts no gifts, but guiles." 

To whom thus answered Satan, malecontent: — 
" That I have also power to give thou scest ; 
If of that power I bring thee voluntary 
What I might have bestowed on whom I pleased. 



386 JOHN MILTON book ll 

And rather opportunely in this place 

Chose to impart to thy apparent need, 

Why shouldst thou not accept it? But I see 

What I can do or offer is suspect. 

Of these things others quickly will dispose, 

Whose pains have earned the far-fet spoil." With 

that 
Both table and provision vanished quite, 
With sound of harpies' wings and talons heard; 
Only the impor'tune Tempter still remained, 
And with these words his temptation pursued : — 

" By hunger, that each other creature tames. 
Thou art not to be harmed, therefore not moved; 
Thy temperance, invincible besides. 
For no allurement yields to appetite; 
And all thy heart is set on high designs, 
High actions. But wherewith to be achieved? 
Great acts require great means of enterprise; 
Thou art unknown, unfriended, low of birth, 
A carpenter thy father known, thyself 
Bred up in poverty and straits at home, 
Lost in a desert here and hunger-bit. 
Which way, or from what hope, dost thou aspire 
To greatness? whence authority deriv'st? 
What followers, what retin'ue canst thou gain, 
Or at thy heels the dizzy multitude, 
Longer than thou canst feed them on thy cost? 
Money brings honour, friends, conquest, and realms. 
What raised Antipater the Edomite, 
And his son Herod placed on Juda's throne, 
Thy throne, but gold, that got him puissant friends? 
Therefore, if at great things thou wouldst arrive, 
Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap — 
Not difficult, if thou hearken to me 
Riches are mine, fortune is in, my hand; 
They whom I favour thrive in wealth amain. 
While virtue, valour, wisdom, sit in want." 

To whom thus Jesus patiently replied: — 
" Yet wealth without these three is impotent 
To gain dominion, or to keep it gained — 



BOOK II PARADISE REGAINED 387 

Witness those ancient empires of the earth, 

In highth of all their flowing wealth dissolved; 

But men endued with these have oft attained, 

In lowest poverty, to highest deeds — 

Gideon, and Jephtha, and the shepherd lad 

Whose offspring on the throne of Juda sate 

So many ages, and shall yet regain 

That seat, and reign in Israel without end. 

Among the Heathen (for throughout the world 

To me is not unknown what hath been done 

Worthy of memorial) canst thou not remember 

Quintius, Fabricius, Curius, Regulus? 

For I esteem those names of men so poor, 

Who could do mighty things, and could contemn 

Riches, though offered from the hand of kings 

And what in me seems wanting but that I 

May also in this poverty as soon 

Accomplish what they did, perhaps and more? 

Extol not riches, then, the toil of fools, 

The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare ; more apt 

To slacken virtue and abate her edge 

Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise. 

What if with like aversion I reject 

Riches and realms ! Yet not for that a crown. 

Golden in shew, is but a wreath of thorns, 

Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights, 

To him who wears the regal diadem, 

When on his shoulders each man's burden lies ; 

For therein stands the office of a king. 

His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praise. 

That for the public all this weight he bears. 

Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules 

Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king — 

Which every wise and virtuous man attains; 

And who attains not, ill aspires to rule 

Cities of men, or headstrong multitudes, 

Subject himself to anarchy within. 

Or lawless passions in him, which he serves. 

But to guide nations in the way of truth 

By saving doctrine, and from error lead 



388 JOHN MILTON book hi 

To know, and, knowing, worship God aright. 
Is yet more kingly. This attracts the soul. 
Governs the inner man, the nobler part; 
That other o'er the body only reigns. 
And oft by force — which to a generous mind 
So reigning can be no sincere delight. 
Besides, to give a kingdom hath been thought 
Greater and nobler done, and to lay down 
Far more magnanimous, than to assume. 
Riches are needless, then, both for themselves, 
And for thy reason why they should be sought — 
To gain a sceptre, oftest better missed." 



THE THIRD BOOK 

So si'AKE the Son of God; and Satan stood 

A while as mute, confounded what to say. 

What to reply, confuted and convinced 

Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift; 

At length, collecting all his serpent wiles, 

With soothing words renewed, him thus accosts: — 

" I sec thou know'st what is of use to know. 
What best to say canst say, to do canst do ; 
Thy actions to thy words accord; thy words 
To thy large heart give utterance due ; thy heart 
Contains of good, wise, just, the perfet shape. 
Should kings and nations from thy mouth consult, 
Thy counsel would be as the oracle 
Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems 
On Aaron's breast, or tongue of Seers old 
Infallible; or, wert thou sought to deeds 
That might require the array of war, thy skill 
Of conduct would be such that all the world 
Could not sustain thy prowess, or subsist 
In battle, though against thy few in arms. 
These godlike virtues wherefore dost thou hide? 
Affecting private life, or more obscure 
In savage wilderness, wherefore deprive 



BOOK MI PARADISE REGAINED 389 

All Earth her wonder at thy acts, thyself 
The fame and glory — glory, the reward 
That sole excites to high attempts the flame 
Of most erected spirits, most tempered pure 
Ethereal, who all pleasures else despise, 
All treasures and all gain esteem as dross, 
And dignities and powers, all but the highest? 
Thy years are ripe, and over-ripe. The son 
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these 
Won Asia, and the throne of Cyrus held 
At his dispose ; young Scipio had brought down 
The Carthaginian pride ; young Pompey quelled 
The Pontic king, and in triumph' had rode. 
Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature, 
Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment. 
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires. 
The more he grew in years, the more inflamed 
With glory, wept that he had lived so long 
Inglorious. But thou yet art not too late." 

To whom our Saviour calmly thus replied : — 
" Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth 
For empire's sake, nor empire to affect 
For glory's sake, by all thy argument. 
For what is glory but the blaze of fame, 
The people's praise, if always praise unmixed? 
And what the people but a herd confused, 
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol 
Things vulgar, and, well weighed, scarce worth the 

praise? 
They praise and they admire they know not what, 
And know not whom, but as one leads the other; 
And what delight to be by such extolled. 
To live upon their tongues, and be their talk? 
Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise — 
His lot who dares be singularly good. 
The intelligent among them and the wise 
Are few, and glory scarce of few is raised. 
This is true glory and renown — when God, 
Looking on the Earth, with approbation marks 
The just man, and divulges him through Heaven 

Y IK IV 



390 JOHN MILTON BOOK in 

To all his Angels, who with true applause 
Recount his praises. Thus he did to Job, 
When, to extend his fame through Heaven and Earth, 
As thou to thy reproach may'st well remember. 
He asked thee, ' Hast thou seen my servant Job ? ' 
Famous he was in Heaven ; on Earth less known, 
Where glory is false glory, attributed 
To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame. 
They err who count it glorious to subdue 
By conquest far and wide, to overrun 
Large countries, and in field great battles win. 
Great cities by assault. What do these worthies 
But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave 
Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote, 
* Made captive, yet deserving freedom more 
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind 
Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove. 
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy; 
Then swell with pride, and must be titled Gods, 
Great Benefactors of mankind, Deliverers, 
Worshipped with temple, priest, and sacrifice? 
One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other; 
Till conqueror Death discover them scarce men, 
Rowling in brutish vices, and deformed. 
Violent or shameful death their due reward. 
But, if there be in glory aught of good; 
It may by means far different be attained, 
Without ambition, war, or violence — 
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent. 
By patience, temperance. I mention still 
Him whom thy wrongs, with saintly patience borne. 
Made famous in a land and times obscure; 
Who names not now with honour patient Job? 
Poor Socrates, (who next more memorable?) 
By what he taught and suft'ered for so doing. 
For truth's sake suffering death unjust, lives now 
Equal in fame to proudest conquerors. 
Yet, if for fame and glory aught be done. 
Aught suffered — if young African for fame 
His wasted country freed from Punic rage — 



BOOK HI PARADISE REGAINED 391 

The deed becomes unpraised, the man at least, 
And loses, though but verbal, his reward. 
Shall I seek glory, then, as vain men seek, 
Oft not deserved? I seek not mine, but His 
Who sent me, and thereby witness whence I am." 
To whom the Tempter, murmuring, thus replied : 
"Think not so slight of glory, therein least 
Resembling thy great Father. He seeks glory, 
And for his glory all things made, all things 
Orders and governs; nor content in Heaven, 
By all his Angels glorified, requires 
Glory from men, from all men, good or bad, 
Wise or unwise, no difference, no exemption. 
Above all sacrifice, or hallowed gift, 
Glory he requires, and glory he receives. 
Promiscuous from all nations, Jew, or Greek, 
Or Barbarous, nor exception hath declared ; 
From us, his foes pronounced, glory he exacts." 

To whom our Saviour fervently replied : 
"And reason; since his Word all things produced, 
Though chiefly not for glory as prime end. 
But to shew forth his goodness, and impart 
His good communicalilc to every soul 
Freely; of whom what could He less expect 
Than glory and l:)enediction — that is, thanks — 
The slightest, easiest, readiest recompense 
From them who could return him nothing else, 
And, not returning that, would likeliest render 
Contempt instead, dishonour, obloquy? 
Hard recompense, unsuitable return 
For so much good, so much beneficence ! 
But why should man seek glory, who of his own 
Hath nothing, and to whom nothing belongs 
But condemnation, ignominy, and shame — 
Who, for so many benefits received, 
Turned recreant to God, ingratc and false, 
And so of all true good himself despoiled; 
Yet, sacrilegious, to himself v/ould take 
That which to God alone of right belongs? 
Yet so much bounty is in God, such grace. 



392 JOHN MILTON book hi 

That who advance his glory, not their own. 
Them he himself to glory will advance." 

So spake the Son of God; and here again 
Satan had not to answer, but stood struck 
With guilt of his own sin — for he himself, 
Insatiable of glory, had lost all ; 
Yet of another plea bethought him soon : — 

" Of glory, as thou wilt," said he, " so deem ; 
Worth or not worth the seeking, let it pass. 
But to a Kingdom thou art born — ordained 
To sit upon thy father David's throne, 
By mother's side thy father, though thy right 
Be now in powerful hands, that will not part 
Easily from possession won with arms. 
Judaea now and all the Promised Land, 
Reduced a province under Roman yoke, 
Obeys Tiberius, nor is always ruled 
With temperate sway : oft have they violated 
The Temple, oft the Law, with foul affronts, 
Abominations rather, as did once 
Antiochus. And think'st thou to regain 
Thy right by sitting still, or thus retiring? 
So did not Machabeus. He indeed 
Retired unto the Desert, but with arms; 
And o'er a mighty king so oft prevailed 
That by strong hand his family obtained, 
Though priests, the crown, and David's throne usurped, 
With Modin and her suburbs once content. 
If kingdom move thee not, let move thee zeal 
And duty — zeal and duty are not slow. 
But on Occasion's forelock watchful wait: 
They themselves rather are occasion best — 
Zeal of thy Father's house, duty to free 
Thy country from her heathen servitude. 
So shalt thou best fulfil, best verify, 
The Prophets old, who sung thy endless reign — 
The happier reign the sooner it begins. 
Reign then ; what canst thou better do the while ? " 

To whom our Saviour answer thus returned : — 
"All things are best fulfilled in their due time; 



BOOK HI PARADISE REGAINED 393 

And time there is for all things, Truth hath said. 
If of my reign Prophetic Writ hath told 
That it shall never end, so, when begin 
The Father in his purpose hath decreed — 
He in whose hand all times and seasons rowl. 
What if he hath decreed that I shall first 
Be tried in humble state, and things adverse, 
By tribulations, injuries, insults. 
Contempts, and scorns, and snares, and violence, 
Suffering, abstaining, quietly expecting 
Without distrust or doubt, that He may know 
What I can suffer, how obey? Who best 
Can suffer best can do, best reign who first 
Well hath obeyed — just trial ere I merit 
My exaltation without change or end. 
But what concerns it thcc when I begin 
My everlasting Kingdom? Why art thou 
Solicitous? What moves thy inquisition? 
Know'st thou not that my rising is thy fall. 
And my promotion will be thy destruction ? " 

To whom the Tempter, inly racked, replied : — 
" Let that come when it comes. All hope is lost 
Of my reception into grace ; what worse ? 
For where no hope is left is left no fear. 
If there be worse, the expectation more 
Of worse torments me than the feeling can. 
I would be at the worst ; worst is my port. 
My harbour, and my ultimate repose. 
The end I would attain, my final good. 
My error was my error, and my crime 
My crime; whatever, for itself condemned. 
And will alike be punished, whether thou 
Reign or reign not — though to that gentle brow 
Willingly I could fly, and hope thy reign. 
From that placid aspect and meek regard, 
Rather than aggravate my evil state, 
Would stand between me and thy Father's ire 
(Whose ire I dread more than the fire of Hell) 
A shelter and a kind of shading cool 
Interposition, as a summer's cloud. 



394 JOHN MILTON BOOK m 

If [, then, to Ihc worst that can be haste, 

Why move thy feet so slow to what is best? 

Happiest, both to thyself and all the world, 

That thou, who worthiest art, shouldst be their King! 

Perhaps thou linger'st in deep thoughts detained 

Of the enterprise so hazardous and high ! 

No wonder ; for, though in thee be united 

What of perfection can in Man be found, 

Or human nature can receive, consider 

Thy life hath yet been private, most part spent 

At home, scarce viewed the Galilean towns, 

And once a year J<irusalem, few days' 

Short sojourn; and what thence couldst thou observe? 

The world thou hast not seen, much less her glory, 

Empires, and monarchs, and their radiant courts — 

Rest school of best experience, quickest in sight 

In all things that to greatest actions lead. 

The wisest, unexperienced, will be ever 

Timorous, and loth, with novice modesty 

(As he who, seeking asses, found a kingdom) 

Irresolute, imhardy, unadventrous. 

But I will bring thee where thou soon shalt quit 

Those rudiments, and see before thine eyes 

The monarchies of the Earth, their pomp and state — 

Sufficient introduction to inform 

Thee, of thyself so apt, in regal arts. 

And regal mysteries ; that thou may'st know 

How best their opposition to withstand." 

With that (such power was given him then), he 
took 
The Son of God up to a mountain high. 
Tt was a mountain at whose verdant feet 
A spacious plain outstretched in circuit wide 
Lay pleasant ; from his side two rivers flowed. 
The one winding, the other straight, and left between 
Fair champaign, with less rivers intervcined. 
Then meeting joined their tribute to the sea. 
Fertil of corn the glebe, of oil, and wine; 
With herds the pasture thronged, with flocks the hills ; 
Huge cities and high-towered, that well might seem 



BOOK III TARAUISE REGAINED 395 

The seats of mightiest monarchs ; and so large 
The prospect was that here ami there was room 
For barren desert, fountainless and dry. 
To this high mountain-top the Tempter brought 
Our Saviour, and new train of words began : — 

" Well have we speeded, and o'er hill and dale, 
Forest, and field, and ilood, tenii)lcs and towers, 
Cut shorter many a league. Here thou bchold'st 
Assyria, and her empire's ancient bounds, 
Araxes and the Caspian lake; thence on 
As far as Indus east, Euphrates west, 
And oft beyond ; to south the Persian bay. 
And, inaccessible, the Arabian drouth : 
Here, Nineveh, of length within her wall 
Several days' journey, built by Ninus old, 
Of that first golden monarchy the seat, 
And seat of Salmanassar, whose success 
Israel in long captivity still mourns; 
There Babylon, the wonder of all tongues, 
As ancient, but rebuilt by him who twice 
Judah and all thy father David's house 
Led captive, and Jerusalem laid waste, 
Till Cyrus set them free; Persepolis, 
His city, there thou seest, and Bactra there; 
Ecbatana her structure vast there shews. 
And Hecatompylns her hundred gates ; 
There Susa by Choaspes, amber stream, 
The drink of none but kings ; of later fame. 
Built by Emathian or by Parthian hands, 
The great Seleucia, Nisibis. and there 
Artaxata, Teredon, Ctesiphon, 
Turning with easy eye, thou may'st behold. 
All these the Parthian (now some ages past 
By great Arsaces led. who founded first 
That empire) under his dominion holds, 
From the luxurious kings of Antioch won. 
And just in time thou com'st to have a view 
Of his great power; for now the Parthian king 
In Ctesiphon hath gathered all his host 
Against the Scythian, whose incursions wild 



396 JOHN MILTON hook hi 

llavc" wasted Sot^diaiia ; lo Ikt aid 

lie iiiarc-hos now in Iiastc. Sci', lli()iip;li from far, 

His tliousatids, in wliat martial ct[uipaj;o 

They issue forth, steel hows and shafts their arms, 

Of e(|ual dread in lliyht or in pursuit — 

All horsemen, in whieh fli{;ht they must excel; 

See how in warlike muster they appear. 

In rliomhs, and wedj^es, and half-moons, and winj^s." 

lie looked, and saw what numhers muuherless 
The city gates outpoured, lif;ht -armed troops 
In eoats of mail and military ])ride. 
In mail their horses clad, yet Ih-el and strons^, 
rrannein^ their riders hore, tiie llowi-r and liioiee 
Of many provinces from hound to hound — 
h'rom Araehosia, from Candaor east. 
And Margiana, lo the I lyreanian elilTs 
Of Caucasus, and dark Iherian dales; 
l''rom Atropatia, and the neij^hhonrinj^ plains 
Of Adiahene, Media, and the south 
Of Susiana, to Ualsara's haven. 
He saw them in their forms of hattle ranj^ed. 
How (piick they wheeled, and ilyinp; hehind them shot 
Sharp sleet of arrowy showers against the face 
Of their pursuers, and overcame by ilighl ; 
The field all iron cast a gleaming hrown. 
Nor wanted clouds of foot, nor, on each horn, 
Cuirassiers all in steel for standing tlight. 
Chariots, or elephants indorsed with towers 
Of archers; nor of lahouring pioners 
A nudtitude, with spades and axes arme(l. 
To lay hills plain, fell woods, or valleys fill, 
Or where plain was raise hill, or overlay 
With hridges rivers proud, as with a yoke: 
Mules after these, camels and dromedaries. 
And waggons fraught with utensils of war. 
Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp, 
When Agrican, with all his northern powers, 
Besieged Alhracca, as romances tell, 
The city of Callaphrone, from thence to win 
The fairest of her sex, Angelica, 



BOOK III PARADISK KKGAINED 39/ 

His daughter, sought hy many [)rowcst knights, 
Both Paynim and the peers of Charleniane. 
Such and so numerous was their chivalry; 
At sight whereof the Fiend yet more presumed. 
And to our Saviour thus his words renewed : — 

" That thou may'st know I seek not to engage 
Thy virtue, and not every way secure 
On no sh'ght grounds tliy safety, hear and mark 
'IV) what end I have brought thee hither, and show 
All this fair sight. Thy kingdom, though foretold 
I'.y I'ro])liet or hy Angel, unless thou 
Endeavour, as thy father David did, 
Thou never shalt obtain: predictir^ii still 
In all things, and all men, supposes means; 
Without means used, what it predicts revokes. 
But say thou wert possessed of Davifl's throne 
I'iy free consent of all, none opposite, 
Samaritan or Jew ; how couldst thou hope 
Long to enjoy it quiet anrl secure 
Between two such enclosing enemies, 
Roman and Parthian? Therefore one of these 
Thou must make sure thy own: the Parthian fir.st, 
P.y my advice, as nearer, and of late 
T'Vnmd able by invasion to annoy 
Thy country, and cajitivc lead away her kings, 
Aiitigonus and old Ilyrcanus, bound, 
Maugre the Roman. It shall be my task 
To render thee the Parthian at dispose, 
Clhoosc which thou wilt, by conquest or by league. 
By him thou shalt regain, without him not. 
That which alone can truly reinstall thee 
In David's royal seat, his true successor — 
Deliverance of thy brethren, those Ten Tribes 
Whose offspring in his territory yet serve 
In Habor, and among the Medcs dispersed : 
Ten sons of Jacob, two of Joseph, lost 
Thus long from Israel, serving, as of old 
Their fathers in the land of Egypt served, 
This offer sets before thee to deliver. 
These if from servitude thou shalt restore 



398 JOHN MILTON BOOK lii 

1'o their inheritance, then, nor till then, 
Thou on the throne of David in full glory, 
From Egypt to Euphrates and beyond, 
Shalt reign, and Rome or Caesar not need fear." 

To whom our Saviour ansvi^ercd thus, unmoved: — 
" Much ostentation vain of fleshly arm 
And fragile arms, much instrument of v^^ar, 
Long in preparing, soon to nothing brought. 
Before mine eyes thou hast set, and in my ear 
Vented much policy, and projects deep 
Of enemies, of aids, battles, and leagues. 
Plausible to the world, to me worth naught. 
Means I must use. thou say'st ; prediction else 
Will unpredict, and fail me of the throne ! 
My time, I told thee (and that time for thee 
Were better farthest off), is not yet come. 
When that comes, think not thou to find me slack 
On my part aught endeavouring, or to need 
Thy politic maxims, or that cumbersome 
l.uggage of war there shewn me — argument 
Of human weakness rather than of strength. 
My brethren, as thou call'st them, those Ten Tribes, 
T must deliver, if I mean to reign 
David's true heir, and his full sceptre sway 
To just extent over all Israel's sons! 
But whence to thcc this zeal ? Where was it then 
For Israel, or for David, or his throne, 
When thou stood'st up his tempter to the pride 
Of numbering Israel — which cost the lives 
Of threescore and ten thousand Israelites 
By three days' pestilence ? Such was thy zeal 
To Israel then, the same that now to me. 
As for those captive tribes, themselves were they 
Who wrought their own captivity, fell off 
From God to worship calves, the deities 
Of Egypt, Baal next and Ashtaroth, 
And all the idolatries of heathen round, 
Besides their other worse than heathenish crimes; 
Nor in the land of their captivity 
Humbled themselves, or penitent besought 



V PARADISE RKGAINI'D 399 

The Gucl uf tlicir forefatluM-s, I)ut su died 
Impenitent, and left a race behind 
Like to themselves, distinguishable scarce 
From Gentiles, but by circumcision vain, 
And Cod with idols in their worship joined. 
Should I of these the liberty rej^ard, 
Who, freed, as to their ancient patrimony, 
Unbumbled, unrepentant, uureformed, 
Headlong would follow, and to their gods perhaps 
Of Hethel and of Dan? No; let them serve 
Their enemies who serve idols with God. 
Yet He at length, time to himself best known, 
Kemembcring Abraham, by some wondrous call 
May bring them back, repentant and sincere, 
And at their passing cleave the Assyrian Hood, 
While to their native land with joy they haste. 
As the Ked Sea and Jordan once he cleft, 
When to the Promised Land their fathers passed. 
To his due time and providence I leave them." 
So spake Israel's true King, and to the Fiend 
Made answer meet, that made void all his wiles. 
So fares it when with truth falsehood contends. 



THE FOURTH HOOK 

Pkri'Moxku and troubled at his bad success 

The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply. 

Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope 

So oft, and the jjcrsuasive rhetoric 

That sleeked his tongue, and won so much on I'lve, 

So little here, nay lost. But Eve was Eve; 

This far his over-match, who, self-deceived 

And rash, beforehand had no better weighed 

The strength he was to cope with, or his own. 

But — as a man who had been matchless held 

In cunning, over-reached where least he thought, 

To salve his credit, and for very spite. 

Still will be tempting him who foils him still. 



400 JOHN MILTON BOOK IV 

And never cease, though to his shame the more; 

Or as a swarm of flies in vintage-time, 

About the wine-press where sweet must is poured, 

Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound; 

Or surging waves against a soHd rock, 

Though all to shivers dashed, the assault renew, 

(Vain battery!) and in froth or bubbles end — 

So Satan, whom repulse upon repulse 

Met ever, and to shameful silence brought. 

Yet gives not o'er, though desperate of success, 

And his vain importunity pursues. 

He brought our Saviour to the western side 

Of that high mountain, whence he might behold 

Another plain, long, but in breath not wide. 

Washed by the southern sea, and on the north 

To equal length backed with a ridge of hills 

That screened the fruits of the earth and seats of men 

From cold Septentrion blasts ; thence in the midst 

Divided by a river, off whose banks 

On each side an Imperial City stood. 

With towers and temples proudly elevate 

On seven small hills, with palaces adorned, 

Porches and theatres,, baths, aqueducts. 

Statues and trophies, and triumphal arcs. 

Gardens and groves, presented to his eyes 

Above the highth of mountains interposed — 

By what strange parallax, or optic skill 

Of vision, multiplied through air, or glass 

Of telescope, were curious to enquire. 

And now the Tempter thus his silence broke : — 

"The city which thou.seest no other deem 
Than great and glorious Rome, Queen of the Earth 
So far renowned, and with the spoils enriched 
Of nations. There the Capitol thou secst, 
Above the rest lifting his stately head 
On the Tarpeian rock, her citadel 
Impregnable ; and there Mount Palatine, 
The imperial palace, compass huge, and high 
The structure, skill of noblest architects. 
With gilded battlements, conspicuous far, 



BOOK IV PARADISE REGAINED 401 

Turrets, and terraces, and glittering spires. 

Many a fair edifice besides, more like 

Houses of gods — so well I have disposed 

My aerie mic'roscope — thou may'st behold. 

Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs 

Carved work^ the hand of famed artificers 

In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold. 

Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and see 

What conflux issuing forth, or entering in : 

Prretors, proconsuls to their provinces 

Hasting, or on return, in robes of state ; 

Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power; 

Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings; 

Or embassies from regions far remote. 

In various habits, on the Appian road, 

Or on the ^milian — .some from farthest south, 

Syene, and where the shadow both way falls, 

Meroe, Nilotic isle, and, more to west. 

The realm of Bocchus to the Blackmoor sea ; 

From the Asian kings (and Parthian among these), 

From India and the Golden Chcrsoness, 

And utmost Indian isle Taprobane, 

Dusk faces with white silken turbants wreathed; 

From Gallia, Gades, an^ the* British west; 

Germans, and Scythians, and Sarmatians north 

Beyond Danubius to the Tauric pool. 

All nations now to Rome obedience pay — 

To Rome's great Emperor, whose wide domain, 

In ample territory, wealth and power, 

Civility of manners, arts and arms, 

And long renown, thou justly may'st prefer 

Before the Parthian. These two thrones except. 

The rest are barbarous, and scarce worth the sight. 

Shared among petty kings too far removed ; 

These having shewn thee, I have shewn thee all 

The kingdoms of the world, and all their glory. 

This Emperor hath no son, and now is old. 

Old and lascivious, and from Rome retired 

To Caprere, an island small but strong 

On the Campanian shore, with purpose there 



402 JOHN MILTON BOOK IV 

His horrid lusts in private to enjoy; 

Committing to a wicked favourite 

AH public cares, and yet of him suspicious ; 

Hated of all. and hating. With what ease, 

Endued with regal virtues as thou art, 

Appearing, and beginning noble deeds, 

Might'st thou expel this monster from his throne, 

Now made a sty, and. in his place ascending, 

A victor-people free from servile yoke ! 

And with my help thou may'st ; to me the power 

Is given, and by that right I give it thee. 

Aim, therefore, at no less than all the world ; 

Aim at the highest ; without the highest attained, 

Will be for thee no sitting, or not long. 

On David's throne, be prophesied what will." 

To whom the Son of God, unmoved, replied: — 
" Nor doth this grandeur and majestic shew 
Of luxury, though called magnificence. 
More than of arms before, allure mine eye, 
Much less my mind ; though thou should'st add to tell 
Their sumptuous gluttonies, and gorgeous feasts 
On citron tables or Atlantic stone 
(For T have also heard, perhaps have read). 
Their wines of Setia, Cales, and Falcrne, 
Chios and Crete, and how they quaff in gold. 
Crystal, and myrrhine cups, imbossed with gems 
And studs of pearl — to me should'st tell, who thirst 
And hunger still. Then embassies thou shew'st 
From nations far and nigh ! What honour that. 
But tedious waste of time, to sit and hear 
So many hollow compliments and lies. 
Outlandish flatteries ? Then procecd'st to talk 
Of the Emperor, how easily subdued. 
How gloriously. I shall, thou say'st, expel 
A brutish monster: what if I withal 
Expel a Devil who first made him such ? 
Let his tormentor. Conscience, find him out; 
For him I was not sent, nor yet to free 
That people, victor once, now vile and base, 
Deservedly made vassal — who, once just, 



BOOK IV PARADISE REGAINED 403 

Frugal and mild, and temperate, conquered well, 

Rut govern ill the nations under yoke, 

Peeling their provinces, exhausted all 

By lust and rapine ; first ambitious grown 

Of triumph, that insulting vanity; 

Then cruel, by their sports to blood inured 

Of fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed; 

Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still, 

And from the daily Scene effeminate. 

What wise and valiant man would seek to free 

These, thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved. 

Or could of inward slaves make outward free ? 

Know, therefore, when my season comes to sit 

On David's throne, it shall be like a tree 

Spreading and overshadowing all the earth, 

Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash 

All monarchies besides throughout the world; 

And of my Kingdom there shall be no end. 

Means there shall be to this; but what the means 

Is not for thee to know, nor me to tell." 

To whom the Tempter, impudent, replied : — 
" I see all offers made by me how slight 
Thou valuest, because offered, and reject'st. 
Nothing will please the difficult and nice. 
Or nothing more than still to contradict. 
On the other side know also thou that I 
On what I offer set as high esteem, 
Nor what I part with mean to give for naught. 
All these, which in a moment thou behold'st. 
The kingdoms of the world, to thee I give 
(For, given to me, I give to whom I please), 
No trifle ; yet with this reserve, not else — 
On this condition, if thou wilt fall down, 
And worship me as thy superior Lord 
(Easily done), and hold them all of me; 
For what can less so great a gift deserve? " 

Whom thus our Saviour answered with disdain : — 
" T never liked thy talk, thy offers less ; 
Now both abhor, since thou hast dared to utter 
The abominable terms, impious condition. 



404 JOHN MILTON book iv 

But I endure the time, till which expired 

Thou hast permission on me. It is written, 

The first of all commandments, ' Thou shalt worship 

The Lord thy God, and only Him shalt serve;' 

And dar'st thou to the Son of God propound 

To worship thee, accursed? now more accursed 

For this attempt, bolder than that on Eve, 

And more blashemous ; which expect to rue. 

The kingdoms of the world to thee were given ! 

Permitted rather, and by thee usurped ; 

Other donation none thou canst produce. 

If given, by whom but by the King of kings, 

God over all supreme? If given to thee, 

By thee how fairly is the Giver now 

Repaid ! But gratitude in thee is lost 

Long since. Wert thou so void of fear or shame 

As offer them to me, the Son of God — 

To me my own, on such abhorred pact, 

That I fall down and worship thee as God? 

Get thee behind me ! Plain thou now appear'st 

That Evil One, Satan for ever damned." 

To whom the Fiend, with fear abashed, replied: — 
" Be not so sore offended, Son of God — 
Though Sons of God both Angels are and Men — 
If I, to try whether in higher sort 
Than these thou bear'st that title, have proposed 
What both from Men and Angels I receive, 
Tetrarch§ of Fire, Air, Flood, and on the Earth 
Nations besides from all the quartered winds — 
God of this World invoked, and World beneath. 
Who then thou art, whose coming is foretold 
To me most fatal, me it most concerns. 
The trial hath indamaged thee no way, 
Rather more honour left and more esteem ; 
Me naught advantaged, missing what I aimed. 
Therefore let pass, as they are transitory, 
The kingdoms of this world; I shall no more 
Advise thee ; gain them as thou canst, or not. 
And thou thyself seem'st otherwise inclined 
Than to a worldly crown, addicted more 



BOOK IV PARADISE REGAINED 405 

To contemplation and profound dispute; 

As by that early action may be judged, 

When, slipping from thy mother's eye, thou went'st 

Alone into the Temple, there wast found 

Among the gravest Rabbies, disputant 

On points and questions fitting Moses' chair. 

Teaching, not taught. The childhood shews the man, 

As morning shews the day. Be famous, then, 

By wisdom ; as thy empire must extend, 

So let extend thy mind o'er all the world 

In knowledge ; all things in it comprehend. 

All knowledge is not couched in Moses' law. 

The Pentateuch, or what the Prophets wrote ; 

The Gentiles also know, and write, and teach 

To admiration, led by Nature's light ; 

And with the Gentiles much thou must converse, 

Ruling them by persuasion, as thou mean'st. 

Without their learning, how wilt thou with them, 

Or they with thee, hold conversation meet? 

How wilt thou reason with them, how refute 

Their idolisms, traditions, paradoxes? 

Error by his own arms is best evinced. 

Look once more, ere we leave this specular mount, 

Westward, much nearer by south-west ; behold 

Where on the TEgean shore a city stands. 

Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil — 

Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts 

And eloquence, native to famous wits 

Or hospitable, in her sweet recess. 

City or suburban, studious walks and shades. 

See there the olive-grove of Academe, 

Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird 

Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long; 

There, flowery hill, Hymettus, with the sound 

Of bees' industrious murmur, oft invites 

To studious musing; there Ilissus rowls 

His whispering stream. Within the walls then view 

The schools of ancient sages — his who bred 

Great Alexander to subdue the world, 

Lyceum there ; and painted Stoa next. 

Z HCIV 



406 JOHN MILTON book iv 

There thou shall hear and k-ani the secret power 
Of harmony, in tones and nnnihers hit 
By voice or hand, and various-measmed verse, 
/liioHan charms and Oorian lyric odes, 
And his who gave them breath, hut hij^her sung, 
P)lind Melesigenes, thence Homer called, 
Whose poem IMicehus challenged for his own. 
Thence what the lofty grave Tragedians taught 
In chorus or iambic, teachers best 
Of moral prudence, with delight received 
In brief sententious precepts, while they treat 
Of fate, and chance, and change in human life. 
High actions and high passions best describing. 
Thence to the famous Orators re])air. 
Those ancient whose resistless elo(|uence 
Wielded at will that fierce democraty. 
Shook the Arsenal, and fulmined (tver (Greece 
To Macedon and Artaxcrxcs' throne. 
To sage Philosophy next lend thine ear, 
From heaven descended to the low-roofed house 
Of Socrates — sec there his tenement — 
Whom, well inspired, the Oracle jironotmced 
Wisest of men ; fronj whose mouth issued forth 
Mellilluous streams, that watered all the schools 
Of Academics old and new, with those 
Surnamed Peripatetics, and the sect 
Epicurean, and the Stoic severe. 
These here revolve, or, as thou likest, at home. 
Till time mature thee to a kingdom's weight ; 
These rules will render thee a king complete 
Within thyself, much more with empire joined." 
To whom our Saviour sagely thus replied: — 
*' Think not but that T know these things; or, think 
I know them not, not therefore am 1 short 
Of knowing what I ought. Tic who receives 
Tight from above, from the Fountain of Light, 
No other doctrine needs, though granted true ; 
P.ut these arc false, or little else but dreams. 
Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm. 
The first and wi.sest of (hem all professed 



uooit IV PARADISK RKGAINKD 407 

To know this only, thai he nothinj^ knew; 

'J'hc next to faljlin^^ fell and smooth conceits; 

A third sort doubted all things, though plain sense; 

Others in virtue placed felicity, 

P>ut virtue joined with riches and long life; 

Jn c(jrporal pleasure he, and careless ease; 

The Stoic last in [)hilosophic pride, 

Ry him called virtue, and his virtuous man, 

Wise, perfect in himself, and all possessing, 

ICqual to God, oft shames not tfj prefer. 

As fearing (jod nfjr man, contenniing all 

Wealth, pleasure, pain or torment, death and life — 

Which, when he lists, he leaves, or boasts he can; 

I"'or all his tedious talk is but vain bfjast. 

Or subtle shifts conviction to evade. 

Alas ! what can they teach, and not mislead, 

Ignorant of themselves, of fWn] much nuire. 

And how the World began, and how Man fell, 

Degraded by himself, on grace; depending? 

Much of the Soul they talk, but all awry ; 

And in themselves seek virtue; and to themselves 

All glory arrogate, to God give nrtne ; 

Rather accuse him under usual names, 

I<'orlune and Fate, as one regardless rjnite 

f)f mortal things. Who, therefore, seeks in these 

'i rue wisdom fnuls her not, or by d(;lusifjn 

h^ar worse, her false resemblance only meets, 

An empty cloud. However, many books. 

Wise men have said, are wearisome ; who reads 

Incessantly, and to his reading brings not 

A spirit and juflgment ecpial or superior, 

(Anfl what he brings what neerls he elsewhere seek?) 

Uncertain and unsettlcfl still remains. 

Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself. 

Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys 

Anrl trifles for choice matters, worth a sjjongc, 

As children gathering pebbles on the shore. 

Or, if I would delight my private hours 

With music or with poem, where so soon 

As in our native language can I find 



408 JOHN MILTON book iv 

That solace? All our Law and Story strewed 

With hymns, our Psalms with artful terms inscribed. 

Our Hebrew songs and harps, in Babylon 

That pleased so well our victor's ear, declare 

That rather Greece from us these arts derived — 

111 imitated while they loudest sing 

The vices of their deities, and their own, 

In fable, hymn, or song, so personating 

Their gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame. 

Remove their swelling epithetes, thick-laid 

As varnish on a harlot's cheek, the rest, 

Thin-sown with aught of profit or delight. 

Will far be found unworthy to compare 

With Sinn's songs, to all true tastes excelling, 

Where God is praised aright and godlike men. 

The Holiest of Holies and his Saints 

(Such are from God inspired, not such from thee) ; 

Unless where moral virtue is expressed 

By light of Nature, not in all quite lost. 

Their orators thou then extoll'st as those 

The top of eloquence — statists indeed. 

And lovers of their country, as may seem ; 

But herein to our Prophets far beneath, 

As men divinely taught, and better teaching 

The solid rules of civil government. 

In their majestic, unaffected style. 

Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. 

In them is plainest taught, and easiest learnt. 

What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so, 

What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat ; 

These only, with our Law, best form a king." 

So spake the Son of God; but Satan, now 
Quite at a loss (for all his darts were spent), 
Thus to our Saviour, with stern brow, replied : — 

" Since neither wealth nor honour, arms nor arts. 
Kingdom nor empire, pleases thee, nor aught 
By me proposed in life contemplative 
Or active, tended on by glory or fame. 
What dost thou in this world ? The Wilderness 
For thee is fittest place : I found thee there. 



BOOK IV PARADISE REGAINED 409 

And thither will return thee. Yet remember 

What I foretell thee ; soon thou shalt have cause 

To wish thou never hadst rejected, thus 

Nicely or cautiously, my offered aid, 

Which would have set thee in short time with case 

On David's throne, or throne of all the world. 

Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season, 

When prophecies of thee are best fulfilled. 

Now, contrary — if I read aught in heaven, 

Or heaven write aught of fate — by what the stars 

Voluminous, or single characters 

In their conjunction met, give me to spell. 

Sorrows and labours, opposition, hate. 

Attends thee; scorns, reproaches, injuries, 

Violence and stripes, and, lastly, cruel death. 

A kingdom they portend thee, but what kingdom, 

Real or allegoric, I discern not ; 

Nor when : eternal sure — as without end. 

Without beginning; for no date prefixed 

Directs me in the starry rubric set." 

So saying, he took (for still he knew his power 
Not yet expired), and to the Wilderness 
Brought back, the Son of God, and left him there, 
Feigning to disappear. Darkness now rose. 
As daylight sunk, and brought in louring Night, 
Her shadowy offspring, unsubstantial both. 
Privation mere of light and absent day. 
Our Saviour, meek, and with untroubled mind 
After his aerie jaunt, though hurried sore, 
Hungry and cold, betook him to his rest, 
Wherever, under some concourse of shades. 
Whose branching arms thick intertwined might shield 
From dews and damps of night his sheltered head; 
But, sheltered, slept in vain ; for at his head 
The Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreams 
Disturbed his sleep. And either tropic now 
'Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven ; the clouds 
From many a horrid rift abortive poured 
Fierce rain with lightning mixed, water with fire 
In ruin reconciled; nor slept the winds 



410 JOHN MILTON HOOK IV 

Within their stuiiy caves, but ruslicd abroad 
From the four hinges of the world, and fell 
On the vexed wilderness, whose tallest pines. 
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks, 
Ijowed their stiff necks, loaden with stormy ])lasts. 
Or torn up sheer. Ill was thou shrouded then, 
() patient Son of God, yet only stood'st 
Unshaken ! Nor yet staid the terror there : 
Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round 
Environed thee; some howled, some yelled, some 

shrieked, 
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou 
Sat'st unai)palled in calm and sinless peace. 
Thus i)assed the night so foul, till Morning fair 
Came forth with ])ilgrim steps, in amice grey, 
Who with her radiant finger stilled (he roar 
Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds, 
And griesly spectres, which the h'iend had raised 
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire. 
And now the sun with more effectual beams 
Had cheered the face of earth, and dried the wet 
From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds. 
Who all things now behold more fresh and green. 
After a night of storm so ruinous. 
Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and spray. 
To gratulate the sweet return of morn. 
Nor yet, amidst this joy and brightest morn, 
Was absent, after all his nu'schief done. 
The Prince of Darkness; glad would also seem 
Of this fair change, and to our Saviour came; 
Yet with no new device (they all were spent), 
Rather by this his last affront resolved, 
Desperate of better course, to vent his rage 
And mad despite to be so oft re])elle(l. 
Him walking on a sunny hill he foiuul, 
Backed on the north and west by a thick wood ; 
Out of the wood he starts in wonted shape. 
And in a careless mood thus to him said: — 

" Fair morning yet betides thee, Son of God, 
After a dismal night. I heard the wrack, 



DOOK IV TAHADISE REGAIN F^J) 411 

As earth and sky would mingle; but myself 

Was distant; and these flaws, though mortals fear 

them, 
As dangerous to the pillared frame of Heaven, 
Or to the Earth's dark basis underneath, 
Arc to the main as inconsiderable 
And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze 
To man's less universe, and soon are gone. 
Yet, as being ofttimes noxious where they light 
On man, beast, plant, wasteful and turbulent. 
Like turbulcncies in the affairs of men. 
Over whose heads they roar, arfd seem to point, 
They oft fore-signify and threaten ill. 
This tempest at this desert most was bent ; 
Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell'st. 
Did I not tell thee, if thou flidst reject 
The perfect season offered with my aid 
To win thy destined seat, but wilt prolong 
All to the push of fate, pursue thy way 
Of gaining David's throne no man knows when 
(For both the when and how is nowhere told), 
Thou shalt be what thou art ordained, no doubt; 
For Angels have proclaimed it, but concealing 
The time and means ? Each act is rightliest done 
Not when it must, Ijut when it may be best. 
If thou observe not this, be sure to find 
What I foretold thee — many a hard assay 
Of dangers, and adversities, and pains, 
Ere thou of Israel's sceptre get fast hold; 
Whereof this ominous night that closed thee round, 
So many terrors, voices, prodigies, 
May warn thee, as a sure foregoing sign." 

So talked he, while the Son of God went on. 
And staid not, but in brief him answered thus: — 

" Me worse than wet thou find'st not ; other harm 
Those terrors which thou speak'st of did mc none 
I never feared they could, though noising loud 
And threatening nigh : what they can do as signs 
Betokening or ill-boding I contemn 
As false portents, not sent from God, but thee ; 



412 JOHN MILTON book iv 

Who, knowing I shall reign past thy preventing, 
Obtrud'st thy offered aid, that I, accepting, 
At least might seem to hold all power of thee, 
Ambitious Spirit! and would'st be thought my God; 
And storm'st, refused, thinking to terrify 
Me to thy will I Desist (thou art discerned. 
And toil'st in vain), nor me in vain molest." 

To whom the Fiend, now swoln with rage, replied: — 
" Then hear, O Son of David, virgin-born ! 
For Son of God to me is yet in doubt. 
Of the Messiah I have heard foretold 
By all the Prophets ; of thy birth, at length 
Announced by Gabriel, with the first I knew, 
And of the angelic song in Bethlehem field, 
On thy birth-night, that sung thee Saviour born. 
From that time seldom have I ceased to eye 
Thy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth. 
Thy manhood last, though yet in private bred ; 
Till, at the ford of Jordan, whither all 
Flocked to the Baptist, I among the rest 
(Though not to be baptized), by voice from Heaven 
Heard thee pronounced the Son of God beloved . 
Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer view 
And narrower scrutiny, that I might learn 
In what degree or meaning thou art called 
The Son of God, which bears no single sense. 
The Son of God I also am, or was; 
And, if I was, I am ; relation stands : 
All men are Sons of God ; yet thee I thought 
In some respect far higher so declared. 
Therefore I watched thy footsteps from that hour, 
And followed thee still on to this waste wild, 
Where, by all best conjectures, I collect 
Thou art to be my fatal enemy. 
Good reason, then, if I beforehand seek 
To understand my adversary, who 
And what he is; his wisdom, power, intent; 
By parle or composition, truce or league. 
To win him, or win from him what I can. 
And opportunity I here have had 



BOOK IV PARADISE REGAINED 413 

To try thee, sift thee, and confess have found thee 
Proof against all temptation, as a rock 
Of adamant and as a centre, firm 
To the utmost of mere man both wise and good, 
Not more ; for honours, riches, kingdoms, glory, 
Have been before contemned, and may again. 
Therefore, to know what more thou art than man, 
Worth naming Son of God by voice from Heaven, 
Another method I must now l)cgin." 

So saying, he caught him up, and, without wing 
Of hippogrif, bore through the air sublime, 
Over the wilderness and o'er the plain, 
Till underneath them fair Jerusalem, 
The Holy City, lifted high her towers. 
And higher yet the glorious Temple reared 
Her pile, far off appearing like a mount 
Of alablaster, topt with golden spires : 
There, on the highest pinnacle, he set 
The Son of God, and added thus in scorn : — 

" There stand, if thou wilt stand ; to stand upright 
Will ask thee skill. I to thy Father's house 
Have brought thee, and highest placed : highest is 

best. 
Now shew thy progeny; if not to stand, 
Cast thyself down. Safely, if Son of God; 
For it is written, ' He will give command 
Concerning thee to his Angels ; in their hands 
They shall uplift thee, lest at any time 
Thou chance to dash thy foot against a stone.' " 

To whom thus Jesus : " Also it is written, 
' Tempt not the Lord thy God.' " He said, and stood ; 
But Satan, smitten with amazement, fell. 
As when Earth's son, Antaeus (to compare 
Small things with greatest), in Irassa strove 
With Jove's Alcides, and, oft foiled, still rose. 
Receiving from his mother Earth new strength, 
Fresh from his fall, and fiercer grapple joined. 
Throttled at length in the air expired and fell , 
So, after many a foil, the Tempter proud. 
Renewing fresh assaults, amidst his pride 



414 JOHN MILTON BOOK IV 

Fell whence he stood to see his victor fall ; 

And, as that Theban monster that proposed 

Her riddle, and him who solved it not devoured. 

That once found out and solved, for grief and spite 

Cast herself headlong from the Ismenian steep, 

So, strook with dread and anguish, fell the Fiend, 

And to his crew, that sat consulting, brought 

Joyless triumphals of his hoped success, 

Ruin, and desperation, and dismay, 

Who durst so proudly tempt the Son of God. 

So Satan fell ; and straight a fiery globe 

Of Angels on full sail of wing flew nigh. 

Who on their plumy vans received Him soft 

From his uneasy station, and upbore. 

As on a floating couch, through the blithe air; 

Then, in a flowery valley, set him down 

On a green bank, and set before him spread 

A table of celestial food, divine 

Ambrosial fruits fetched from the Tree of Life, 

And from the Fount of Life ambrosial drink, 

That soon refreshed him wearied, and repaired 

What hunger, if aught hunger, had impaired. 

Or thirst; and, as he fed. Angelic quires 

Sung heavenly anthems of his victory 

Over temptation and the Tempter proud : — 

" True Image of the Father, whether throned 
In the bosom of bliss, and light of light 
Conceiving, or, remote from Heaven, enshrined 
In fleshly tabernacle and human form, 
Wandering the wilderness — whatever place, 
Habit, or state, or motion, still expressing 
The Son of God, with Godlike force endued 
Against the attempter of thy Father's throne 
And thief of Paradise ! Him long of old 
Thou didst debel, and down from Heaven cast 
With all his army ; now thou hast avenged 
Supplanted Adam, and, by vanquishing 
Temptation, hast regained lost Paradise, 
And frustrated the conquest fraudulent. 
He never more henceforth will dare set foot 



BOOK IV PARADISE REGAINED 415 

In Paradise to tempt; his snares are broke. 

For, though that seat of earthly bHss be failed, 

A fairer Paradise is founded now 

For Adam and his chosen sons, whom thou, 

A Saviour, art come down to reinstall ; 

Where they shall dwell secure, when time shall be, 

Of tempter and temptation without fear. 

But thou. Infernal Serpent ! shalt not long 

Rule in the clouds. Like an autumnal star, 

Or lightning, thou shalt fall from Heaven, trod down 

Under his feet. For proof, ere this thou feel'st 

Thy wound (yet not thy last and deadliest wound) 

By this repulse received, and hold'st in Hell 

No triumph ; in all her gates Abaddon rues 

Thy bold attempt. Hereafter learn with awe 

To dread the Son of God. He, all unarmed. 

Shall chase thee, with the terror of his voice. 

From thy demoniac holds, possession foul — 

Thee and thy legions ; yelling they shall fly, 

And beg to hide them in a herd of swine. 

Lest he command them down into the Deep, 

Bound, and to torment sent before their time. 

Hail, Son of the Most High, heir of both Worlds, 

Quellcr of Satan ! On thy glorious work 

Now enter, and begin to save Mankind." 

Thus they the Son of God, our Saviour meek, 
Sung victor, and, from heavenly feast refreshed, 
Brought on his way with joy. He, unobserved, 
Home to his mother's house private returned. 



MILTON'S INTRODUCTION 
TO SAMSON AGONISTES 

Arislol. Poet. cap. 6. Tpa-yifiia. fiijiijo-is wpafeu? (TirouJaios, &c.— Tragoedia 
est irnttatio actionis seriae, &c.. per misericordiam et tnetum perficiens talium 
altectuum lustrationetn. 

OF THAT SORT OF DRAMATIC POEM 
CALLED TRAGEDY 

Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever held 
the gravest, moralest, and most protitable of all other Poems ; 
therefore said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity and 
fear, or terror, to purge the mind of those and such-like passions 
— that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind 
of delight, stirred up by reading or seeing those passions well 
imitated. Nor is Nattwe wanting in her own effects to make 
good his assertion ; for so, in Physic, things of melancholic hue 
and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt 
to remove salt humours. Hence philosophers and other gravest 
writers, as Cicero, Plutarch, and others, frequently cite out of 
tragic poets, both to adorn and illustrate their discourse. The 
Apostle Paul himself thought it not unworthy to insert a verse 
of Euripides into the text of Holy Scripture, I Cor. xv. SZ ; and 
Parjcus, commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole Book, 
as a Tragedy, into acts, distinguished each by a Chorus of 
Heavenly Harpings and Song between. Heretofore men in 
highest dignity have laboured not ? little to be thought able to 
compose a tragedy. Of that honour Dionysius the elder was no 
less ambitious than before of his attaining to the tyranny. Au- 
gustus CcTsar also had begun his Ajax, but, unable to please his 
own judgment with what he had begun, left it unfinished. 
Seneca, the philosopher, is by some thought the author of those 
tragedies (at least the best of them) that go imder that name. 
Gregory Nazianzen, a Father of the Church, thought it not un- 
beseeming the sanctity of his person to write a tragedy, which 
he entitled Christ Suffering. This is mentioned to vindicate 
Tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the 
account of many it undergoes at this day, with other common 

416 



MILTONS INTRODUCTION 417 

Intorludos ; happening through the poets error of intermixing 
comic stut? with tragic sadness and gravity, or introducuig trivial 
and vulgar persons: which by all judicious hath been counted 
absurd, and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratify 
the people. And, though ancient Tragedy use no Prologue, yet 
using sometimes, in case of self-defence or explanation, that 
which Martial calls an Epistle, in behalf of this tragedy, coming 
forth after the ancient manner, much ditYerent from what among 
us passes for best, thus mucli beforehand may be vpistU'd — that 
Chorus is here introduced after the Greek manner, not ancient 
only, but modern, and still in use among the Italians. In the 
modelling therefore of this poem, with good reason, the Ancients 
and Italians are rather followed, as of nuich more authority and 
fame. The measure of verse used in the Chorus is of all sorts, 
called by the Greeks Monostrof'liic. or rather Apolclymt'Him, 
without reg-ard had to Stroplie, Antistrophe, or l£pode. — which 
wore a kind of stanzas framed only for the music, then used 
with the Chorus that sung; not essential to the poem, and there- 
fore not material ; or, being divided into stanzas or pauses, they 
may be called AlUrostrotha. Division into act and scene, re- 
ferring chiefly to the stage (to which this work never was m- 
tended"), is here omitted. 

It suffices if the whole drama be found not produced beyond 
the fifth act. Of the style and uniformity, and that connnonly 
called the plot, whether intricate or explicit — which is nothing 
indeed but such ovonomy, or disposition of the fable, as may 
stand best with verisimilitude and decorum — they only w\ll best 
juilge who are not unacquainted with .T!schylus, Sophocles, and 
Euripides, the three tragic poets unequalled yet by any, and the 
best rule to all who endeavour to write Tragedy. The circum- 
scription of time, wherein the whole drama begins and ends, is, 
according to ancient rule and best example, within the space of 
twenty-four hours. 



SAMSON AGONISTES 

1667-1671 



T}iE Argument. — Samson, made captive, hliml, and now in the 
prison at Gaza, there to labour as in a conimon workhouse, on a 
festival day, in the general cessation from labour, comes forth into 
the open air, to a place nigh, somewhat retired, there to sit awhile 
and bemoan his condition. Where he happens at length to be visited 
by certain friends and equals of his tribe, which make the Chorus, 
who seek to comfort him what they can : then by his old father, 
Manoa, who endeavours the like, and withal tells him his purpose 
to procure his liberty by ransom ; lastly, that this feast was pro- 
claimed by the Philistines as a day of thanksgiving for their deliver- 
ance from the hands of Samson — which yet more troubles him. 
Manoa then departs to prosecute his endeavour with the Philistian 
lords for Samson's redemption : who, in the meanwhile, is visited 
by other persons, and, lastly, by a public ofTicer to require his coming 
to the feast before the lords and people, to play or shew his strength 
in their presence. He at first refuses, dismissing the public olHcer 
with absolute denial to come ; at length, persuaded inwardly that 
this was from God, he yields to go along with him, who came now 
the second time with great thrcatenings to fetch him. The Chorus 
yet remaining on the place, Manoa returns full of joyful hope to 
procure ere long his son's deliverance ; in the midst of which dis- 
course an Ebrew conies in haste, confusedly at first, and afterwards 
more distinctly, relating the catastrophe — what Samson had done to 
the Philistines, and by accident to himself; wherewith the Tragedy 
ends. 

THE PERSONS 

Samson. Manoa, the father of Samson. Dai.ii.a, his wife. 

Hakai'Ha of Gath. Public Officer. Messenger. Chorus of Danites. 

The Scene, before the Prison in Gaza. 

^ AMSON. A little onward lend thy g;»'H^iii.8: hand 
1 ^ To these dark steps, a little further on ; 

For yonder bank hath ehoice of sun or shade. 
There I am wont to sit, when any chance 
Relieves me from my task of servile toil, 
418 



SAMSON AGONISTES 419 

Daily in the common prison else enjoined me, 

Where I, a prisoner chained, scarce freely ilraw 

The air, imprisoned also, close and damp. 

Unwholesome dranght. But here I feel amends — 

The breath of heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet, 

With day-spring born ; here leave me to respire. 

This day a solemn feast the people hold 

To Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbid 

Laborious works. Unwillingly this rest 

Their superstition yields me ; hence, with leave 

Retiring from the popular noise, I seek 

This unfrequented place to find some ease — 

Ease to the body some, none to the mind 

From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm 

Of hornets armed, no sooner found alone 

But rush upon me thronging, and present 

Times past, what once I was, and what am now. 

Oh, wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold 

Twice by an Angel, who at last, in sight 

Of both my parents, all in flames ascended 

From off the altar where an offering burned, 

As in a fiery column charioting 

His godlike presence, and from some great act 

Or benefit revealed to Abraham's race? 

Why was my breeding ordered and prescribed 

As of a person separate to God, 

Designed for great exploits, if I must die 

Betrayed, captivated, and both my eyes put out, 

Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze, 

To grind in brazen fetters under task 

With this heaven-gifted strength? O glorious strength, 

Put to the labour of a beast, debased 

Lower than bond-slave ! Promise was that I 

Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver ! 

Ask for this great Deliverer now, and find him 

Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves. 

Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke. 

Yet stay ; let me not rashly call in doubt 

Divine prediction. What if all foretold 

Had been fulfilled but through mine own default? 



420 JOHN MILTON 

Whom have I to complain of but mj'self, 
Who this high gift of strength committed to me. 
In what part lodged, how easily bereft me, 
Under the seal of silence could not keep, 
But weakly to a woman must reveal it, 
O'ercome with importunity and tears? 
O impotence of mind in body strong ! 
But what is strength without a double share 
Of wisdom? Vast, unwieldy, burdensome, 
Proudly secure, yet liable to fall 
By weakest subtleties ; not made to rule. 
But to subserve where wisdom bears command. 
God, when he gave me strength, to shew withal 
How slight the gift was, hung it in my hair. 
But peace ! I must not quarrel with the will 
Of highest dispensation, which herein 
Haply had ends above my reach to know. 
Suffices that to me strength is my bane. 
And proves the source of all my miseries — 
So many, and so huge, that each apart 
Would ask a life to wail. But, chief of all, 
O loss of sight, of thee I most complain ! 
Blind among enemies ! O worse than chains, 
Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age! 
Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct. 
And all her various objects of delight 
Annulled, which might in part my grief have eased. 
Inferior to the vilest now become 
Of man or worm, the vilest here excel me : 
They creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed 
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong, 
Within doors, or without, still as a fool. 
In power of others, never in my own — 
Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half. 
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon. 
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse 
Without all hope of day ! 
O first-created Beam, and thou great Word, 
" Let there be light, and light was over all," 
• Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree ? 



SAMSON AGONISTES 421 

The Sun to me is dark 
And silent as the Moon, 
When she deserts the night, 
Hid in her vacant intcrlunar cave. 
Since light so necessary is to life, 
And almost life itself, if it be true 
That light is in the soul, 
She all in every part, why was the sight 
To such a tender ball as the eye confined. 
So obvious and so easy to be quenched. 
And not, as feeling, through all parts diffused, 
That she might look at will through every pore? 
Then had I not been thus exiled from light, 
As in the land of darkness, yet in light. 
To live a life half dead, a living death. 
And buried; but, O yet more miserable! 
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave ; 
Buried, yet not exempt, 
By privilege of death and burial. 
From worst of other evils, pains, and wrongs ; 
But made hereby obnoxious more 
To all the miseries of life. 
Life in captivity 
Among inhuman foes. 

But who are these? for with joint pace I hear 
The tread of many feet steering this way ; 
Perhaps my enemies, who come to stare 
At my afHietion, and perhaps to insult — 
Their daily practice to afflict me more. 
Chor. This, this is he ; softly a while ; 
Let us not break in upon him. 
O change beyond report, thought, or belief ! 
See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused, 
With languished head unpropt. 
As one past hope, abandoned. 
And by himself given over. 
In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds 
O'er-worn and soiled. 

Or do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be he, 
That heroic, that renowned, 

AA HC IV 



422 JOHN MILTON 

Lrresistible Samson ? whom, unarmed. 
No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast, could with- 
stand ; 
Who tore the lion as the lion tears the kid; 
Ran on embattled armies clad in iron, 
And, weaponless himself, 
Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery 
Of brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass, 
Chalybean-tempered steel, and frock of mail 
Adamantean proof : 
But safest he who stood aloof, 
When insupportably his foot advanced, 
In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools, 
Spurned them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite 
Fled from his lion ramp; old warriors turned 
Their plated backs under his heel. 
Or grovelling soiled their crested helmets in the dust. 
Then with what trivial weapon came to hand, 
The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, 
A thousand foreskins fell, the flower of Palestine, 
In Ramath-lechi, famous to this day : 
Then by main force pulled up, and on his shoulders bore, 
The gates of Azza, post and massy bar, 
Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old — 
No journey of a sabbath-day, and loaded so — 
Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up Heaven. 
Which shall I first bewail — 
Thy bondage or lost sight, 
Prison within prison 
Inseparably dark? 

Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!) 
The dungeon of thyself ; thy soul 

(Which men enjoying sight oft without cause complain) 
Imprisoned now indeed. 
In real darkness of the body dwells. 
Shut up from outward light 
To incorporate with gloomy night; 
For inward light, alas ! 
Puts forth no visual beam. 
O mirror of our fickle state, 



SAMSON AGONISTES 423 

Since man on earth, unparalleled, 

The rarer thy example stands, 

By how much from the top of wondrous glory, 

Strongest of mortal men, 

To lowest pitch of al)ject fortune thou art fallen. 

For him I reckon not in high estate 

Whom long descent of birth, 

Or the sphere of fortune, raises ; 

But thee, whose strength, while virtue was her mate, 

Might have subdued the Earth, 

Universally crowned with highest praises. 

Sams. I hear the sound of words; their sense the air 
Dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear. 

Clior. He speaks: let us draw nigh. Matchless in 
might. 
The glory late of Israel, now the grief ! 
We come, thy friends and neighbours not unknown. 
From Eshtaol and Zora's fruitful vale, 
To visit or bewail thee ; or, if better. 
Counsel or consolation we may bring. 
Salve to thy sores : apt words have power to swage 
The tumours of a troubled mind. 
And are as balm to festered wounds. 

Sams. Your coming, friends, revives me ; for I learn 
Now of my own experience, not by talk. 
How counterfeit a coin they are who " friends" 
Bear in their superscription (of the most 
I would be understood). In prosperous days 
They swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head, 
Not to be found, though sought. Ye see, O friends. 
How many evils have enclosed me round ; 
Yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me, 
Blindness; for, had I sight, confused with shame. 
How could I once look up, or heave the head, 
Who, like a foolish pilot, have shipwracked 
My Vessel trusted to me from above. 
Gloriously rigged, and for a word, a tear. 
Fool ! have divulged the secret gift of God 
To a deceitful woman ? Tell me, friends. 
Am I not sung and proverbed for a fool 



424 JOHN MILTON 

In every street? Do they not say, "How well 
Are come upon him his deserts " ? Yet why ? 
Immeasurable strength they might behold 
In me ; of wisdom nothing more than mean. 
This with the other should at least have paired ; 
These two, proportioned ill, drove me transverse. 

Chor. Tax not divine disposal. Wisest men 
Have erred, and by bad women been deceived ; 
And shall again, pretend they ne'er so wise. 
Deject not, then, so overmuch thyself. 
Who hast of sorrow thy full load besides. 
Yet, truth to say, I oft have heard men wonder 
Why thou should'st wed Philistian women rather 
Than of thine own tribe fairer, or as fair. 
At least of thy own nation, and as noble. 

Sams. The first I saw at Timna, and she pleased 
Me, not my parents, that I sought to wed 
The daughter of an Infidel. They knew not 
That what I motioned was of God ; I knew 
From intimate impulse, and therefore urged 
The marriage on, that, by occasion hence, 
I might begin Israel's deliverance — 
The work to which I was divinely called. 
She proving false, the next I took to wife 
(O that I never had! fond wish too late!) 
Was in the vale of Sorec, Dalila, 
That specious monster, my accomplished snare. 
I thought it lawful from my former act, 
And the same end, still watching to oppress 
Israel's oppressors. Of what now I suffer 
She was not the prime cause, but I myself. 
Who, vanquished with a peal of words, (O weakness!) 
Gave up my fort of silence to a woman. 

Chor. In seeking just occasion to provoke 
The Philistine, thy country's enemy. 
Thou never wast remiss, I bear thee witness ; 
Yet Israel still serves with all his sons. 

Sams. That fault I take not on me, but transfer 
On Israel's governors and heads of tribes. 
Who, seeing those great acts which God had done 



SAMSON AGONISTES 425 

Singly by me against tlieir conquerors. 

Acknowledged not, or not at all considered, 

Deliverance offered. I, on the other side, 

Used no ambition to commend my deeds ; 

The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the 

doer. 
But they persisted deaf, and would not seem 
To count them things worth notice, till at length 
Their lords, the Philistines, with gathered powers, 
Entered Judea, seeking me, who then 
Safe to the rock of Etham was retired — 
Not flying, but forecasting in what place 
To set upon them, what advantaged best. 
Meanwhile the men of Judah, to prevent 
The harass of their land, beset me round; 
I willingly on some conditions came 
Into their hands, and they as gladly yield me 
To the Uncircumcised a welcome prey, 
Bound with two cords. But cords to mc were threads 
Touched with the flame : on their whole host I flew 
Unarmed, and with a trivial weapon felled 
Their choicest youth ; they only lived who fled. 
Had Judah that day joined, or one whole tribe, 
They had by this possessed the Towers of Gath, 
And lorded over them whom now they serve. 
But what more oft, in nations grown corrupt. 
And by their vices brought to servitude, 
Than to love bondage more than liberty — 
Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty — 
And to despise, or envy, or suspect. 
Whom God hath of his special favour raised 
As their deliverer? If he aught begin. 
How frequent to desert him and at last 
To heap ingratitude on worthiest deeds ! 

Chor. Thy words to my remembrance bring 
How Succoth and the fort of Penuel 
Their great deliverer contemned. 
The matchless Gideon, in pursuit 
Of Madian, and her vanquished kings; 
And how ingrateful Ephraim 



426 JOHN MILTON 

Had dealt with Jephtha, who by argument, 
Not worse than by his shield and spear, 
Defended Israel from the Ammonite, 
Had not his prowess quelled their pride 
In that sore battle when so many died 
Without reprieve, adjudged to death 
For want of well pronouncing Shibboleth. 

Sams. Of such examples add me to the roll. 
* Me easily indeed mine may neglect. 
But God's proposed deliverance not so. 

Chor. Just are the ways of God, 
And justifiable to men, 
Unless there be who think not God at all. 
If any be, they walk obscure ; 
For of such doctrine never was there school. 
But the heart of the Fool, 
And no man therein doctor but himself. 

Yet more there be who doubt his ways not just, 
As to his own edicts found contradicting; 
Then give the reins to wandering thought, 
Regardless of his glory's diminution. 
Till, by their own perplexities involved. 
They ravel more, still less resolved, 
But never find self-satisfying solution. 

As if they would confine the Interminable, 
And tie him to his own prescript. 
Who made our laws to bind us, not himself, 
And hath full right to exempt 
Whomso it pleases him by choice 
From national obstriction, without taint 
Of sin, or legal debt ; 
For with his own laws he can best dispense. 

He would not else, who never wanted means, 
Nor in respect of the enemy just cause. 
To set his people free. 
Have prompted this heroic Nazarite, 
Against his vow of strictest purity. 
To seek in marriage that fallacious bride. 
Unclean, unchaste. 

Down, Reason, then; at least, vain reasonings down; 



SAMSON AGONISTES 427 

Though Reason here aver 

That moral vcrdit quits her of unclean: 

Unchaste was subsequent; her stain, not his. 

But see ! here comes thy reverend sire, 
With careful step, locks white as down. 
Old Manoa : advise 
Forthwith how thou ought'st to receive him. 

Sams. Ay me ! another inward grief, awaked 
With mention of that name, renews the assault. 

Man. Brethren and men of Dan (for such ye seem 
Though in this uncouth place), if old respect, 
As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend. 
My son, now captive, hither hath informed 
Your younger feet, while mine, cast back with age, 
Came lagging after, say if he be here. 

Chor. As signal now in low dejected state 
As erst in highest, behold him where he lies. 

Man. O miserable change ! Is this the man. 
That invincible Samson, far renowned, 
The dread of Israel's foes, who with a strength 
Equivalent to Angels' walked their streets. 
None offering fight ; who, single combatant. 
Duelled their armies ranked in proud array, 
Himself an Army — now unequal match 
To save himself against a coward armed 
At one spear's length ? O ever-failing trust 
In mortal strength ! and, oh, what not in man 
Deceivable and vain ? Nay, what thing good 
Prayed for, but often proves our woe, our bane? 
I prayed for children, and thought barrenness 
In wedlock a reproach ; I gained a son, 
And such a son as all men hailed me happy: 
Who would be now a father in my stead ? 
Oh, wherefore did God grant me my request, 
And as a blessing with such pomp adorned ? 
Why are his gifts desirable, to tempt 
Our earnest prayers, then, given with solemn hand 
As graces, draw a scorpion's tail behind ? 
For this did the Angel twice descend? for this 
Ordained thy nurture holy, as of a plant 



428 JOHN MILTON 

Select and sacred? glorious for a while, 
The miracle of men; then in an hour 
Ensnared, assaulted, overcome, led bound. 
Thy foes' derision, captive, poor and blind. 
Into a dungeon thrust, to work with slaves ! 
Alas ! methinks whom God hath chosen once 
To worthiest deeds, if he through frailty err. 
He should not so o'erwhelm, and as a thrall 
Subject him to so foul indignities, 
Be it but for honour's sake of former deeds. 

Satns. Appoint not heavenly disposition, father. 
Nothing of all these evils hath befallen me 
But justly; I m3^self have brought them on; 
Sole author I, sole cause. If aught seem vile, 
As vile hath been my folly, who have profaned 
The mystery of God, given me under pledge 
Of vow, and have betrayed it to a woman, 
A Canaanite, my faithless enemy. 
This well I knew, nor was at all surprised, 
But warned by oft experience. Did not she 
Of Timna first betray me, and reveal 
The secret wrested from me in her highth 
Of nuptial love professed, carrying it straight 
To them who had corrupted her, my spies 
And rivals? In this other was there found 
More faith, who, also in her prime of love, 
Spousal embraces, vitiated with gold. 
Though offered only, by the scent conceived 
Her spurious first-born. Treason against me ? 
Thrice she assayed, with flattering prayers and sighs, 
And amorous reproaches, to win from me 
My capital secret, in what part my strength 
Lay stored, in what part summed, that she might 

know ; 
Thrice I deluded her, and turned to sport 
Her importunity, each time perceiving 
How openly and with what impudence 
She purposed to betray me, and (which was worse 
Than undissembled hate) with what contempt 
She sought to make me traitor to myself. 



SAMSON AGONISTES 429 

Yet, the fourth time, when, mustering all her wiles, 

With blandished parleys, feminine assaults, 

Tongue-batteries, she surceased not day nor night 

To storm me, over-watched and wearied out, 

At times when men seek most repose and rest, 

I yielded, and unlocked her all my heart. 

Who, with a grain of manhood well resolved, 

Alight easily have shook off all her snares ; 

But foul effeminacy held me yoked 

Her bond-slave. O indignity, O blot 

To Honour and Religion ! servile mind 

Rewarded well with servile punishment ! 

The base degree to which I now am fallen, 

These rags, this grinding, is not yet so base 

As was my former servitude, ignoble, 

Unmanly, ignominious, infamous, 

True slavery ; and that blindness worse than this, 

That saw not how degenerately I served. 

Man. I cannot praise thy marriage-choices, son — 
Rather approved them not ; but thou didst plead 
Divine impulsion prompting how thou might'st 
Find some occasion to infest our foes. 
I state not that ; this I am sure — our foes 
Found soon occasion thereby to make thee 
Their captive, and their triumph ; thou the sooner 
Temptation found'st, or over-potent charms. 
To violate the sacred trust of silence 
Deposited within thee — which to have kept 
Tacit was in thy power. True; and thou bear'st 
Enough, and more, the burden of that fault, 
Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying; 
That rigid score. A worse thing yet remains: 
This day the Philistines a popular feast 
Here celebrate in Gaza, and proclaim 
Great pomp, and sacrifice, and praises loud. 
To Dagon, as their god who hath delivered 
Thee, Samson, bound and blind, into their hands — 
Them out of thine, who slcw'st them many a slain. 
So Dagon shall be magnified, and God, 
Besides whom is no god, compared with idols. 



430 JOHN MILTON 

Disglorified, blasphemed, and had in scorn 
By the idolatrous rout amidst their wine ; 
Which to have come to pass by means of thee, 
Samson, of all thy sufferings think the heaviest, 
Of all reproach the most with shame that ever 
Could have befallen thee and thy father's house. 

Sams. Father, I do acknowledge and confess 
That I this honour, I this pomp, have brought 
To Dagon, and advanced his praises high 
Among the Heathen round — to God have brought 
Dishonour, obloquy, and oped the mouths 
Of idolists and atheists ; have brought scandal 
To Israel, dififidence of God, and doubt 
In feeble hearts, propense enough before 
To waver, or fall off and join with idols : 
Which is my chief affliction, shame and sorrow, 
The anguish of my soul, that suffers not 
Mine eye to harbour sleep, or thoughts to rest. 
This only hope relieves me, that the strife 
With me hath end. All the contest is now 
'Twixt God and Dagon. Dagon hath presumed, 
Me overthrown, to enter lists with God, 
His deity comparing and preferring 
Before the God of Abraham. He, be sure. 
Will not connive, or linger, thus provoked. 
But will arise, and his great name assert. 
Dagon must stoop, and shall ere long receive 
Such -d discomfit as shall quite despoil him 
Of all these boasted trophies won on me. 
And with confusion blank his Worshipers. 

Man. With cause this hope relieves thee; and 
these words 
I as a prophecy receive ; for God 
(Nothing more certain) will not long defer 
To vindicate the glory of his name 
Against all competition, nor will long 
Endure it doubtful whether God be Lord 
Or Dagon. But for thee what shall be done? 
Thou must not in the meanwhile, here forgot, 
Lie in this miserable loathsome plight 



SAMSON AGONISTES 431 

Neglected. I already have made way 

To some Philistian lords, with whom to treat 

About thy ransom. Well they may by this 

Have satisfied their utmost of revenge, 

By pains and slaveries, worse than death, inflicted 

On thee, who now no more canst do them harm. 

Sams. Spare that proposal, father; spare the trouble 
Of that solicitation. Let me here, 
As I deserve, pay on my punishment, 
And expiate, if possible, my crime. 
Shameful garrulity. To have revealed 
Secrets of men, the secrets of a friend. 
How heinous had the fact been, how deserving 
Contempt and scorn of all — to be excluded 
All friendship, and avoided as a blab, 
The mark of fool set on his front ! 
But I God's counsel have not kept, his holy secret 
Presumptuously have published, impiously. 
Weakly at least and shamefully — a sin 
That Gentiles in their parables condemn 
To their Abyss and horrid pains confined. 

Man. Be penitent, and for thy fault contrite ; 
But act not in thy own affliction, son. 
Repent the sin ; but, if the punishment 
Thou canst avoid, self-preservation bids ; 
Or the execution leave to high disposal. 
And let another hand, not thine, exact 
Thy penal forfeit from thyself. Perhaps 
God will relent, and quit thee all his debt ; 
Who ever more approves and more accepts 
(Best pleased with humble and filial submission) 
Him who, imploring mercy, sues for life. 
Than who, self-rigorous, chooses death as due ; 
Which argues over-just, and self-displeased 
For self-offence more than for God offended. 
Reject not, then, what offered means who knows 
But God hath set before us to return thee 
Home to thy country and his sacred house. 
Where thou may'st bring thy offerings, to avert 
His further ire, with prayers and vows renewed. 



432 JOHN MILTON 

Sams. His pardon I implore ; but, as for life. 
To what end should I seek it ? When in strength 
All mortals I excelled, and great in hopes, 
With youthful courage, and magnanimous thoughts 
Of birth from Heaven foretold and high exploits, 
Full of divine instinct, after some proof 
Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond 
The sons of Anak, famous now and blazed, 
Fearless of danger, like a petty god 
I Avalked about, admired of all, and dreaded 
On hostile ground, none daring my affront — 
Then, swollen with pride, into the snare I fell 
Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains, 
Softened with pleasure and voluptuous life 
At length to lay my head and hallowed pledge 
Of all my strength in the lascivious lap 
Of a deceitful Concubine, who shore me. 
Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece, 
Then turned me out ridiculous, despoiled. 
Shaven, and disarmed among my enemies. 

Chor. Desire of wine and all delicious drinks, 
Which many a famous warrior overturns. 
Thou could'st repress ; nor did the dancing ruby, 
Sparkling out-poured, the flavour or the smell, 
Or taste, that cheers the heart of gods and men, 
Allure thee from the cool crystal'lin stream. 

Sams. Wherever fountain or fresh current flowed 
Against the eastern ray, translucent, pure 
With touch sethereal of Heaven's fiery rod, 
I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying 
Thirst, and refreshed; nor envied them the grape 
Whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. 

Chor. O madness ! to think use of strongest wines 
And strongest drinks our chief support of health. 
When God with these forbidden made choice to rear 
His mighty Champion, strong above compare. 
Whose drink was only from the liquid brook ! 

Sams. But what availed this temperance, not complete 
Against another object more enticing? 
What boots it at one gate to make defence, 



SAMSON AGONISTES 433 

And at another to let in the foe, 

Effeminately vanquished? by which means, 

Now blind, disheartened, shamed, dishonoured, quelled, 

To what can I be useful ? wherein serve 

My nation, and the work from Heaven imposed? 

But to sit idle on the household hearth, 

A burdenous drone ; to visitants a gaze, 

Or pitied object; these redundant locks, 

Robustious to no purpose, clustering down. 

Vain monument of strength ; till length of years 

xVnd sedentary numbness craze my limbs 

To a contemptible old age obscure. 

Here rather let me drudge, and earn my bread, 

Till vermin, or the draff of servile food, 

Consume me, and oft-invocated death 

Hasten the welcome end of all my pains. 

I\Ian. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with 
that gift 
Which was expressly given thee to annoy them? 
Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle. 
Inglorious, unimployed, with age outworn. 
But God, who caused a fountain at thy prayer 
From the dry ground to spring, thy thirst to allay 
After the brunt of battel, can as easy 
Cause light again within thy eyes to spring, 
Wherewith to serve him better than thou hast. 
And I persuade me so. Why else this strength 
Miraculous yet remaining in those locks? 
His might continues in thee not for naught, 
Nor shall his wondrous gifts be frustrate thus. 

Safns. All otherwise to me my thoughts portend — 
That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light, 
Nor the other light of life continue long. 
But yield to double darkness nigh at hand ; 
So much I feel my genial spirits droop. 
My hopes all flat : Nature within me seems 
In all her functions weary of herself ; 
My race of glory run, and race of shame. 
And I shall shortly be with them that rest. 

Man. Believe not these suggestions, which proceed 



434 JOHN MILTON 

From anguish of the mind, and humours black 

That mingle with thy fancy. I, however, 

Must not omit a father's timely care 

To prosecute the means of thy deliverance 

By ransom or how else : meanwhile be calm, 

And healing words from these thy friends admit. 

Sams. Oh, that torment should not be confined 
To the body's wounds and sores. 
With maladies innumerable 
In heart, head, breast, and reins. 
But must secret passage find 
To the inmost mind, 
There exercise all his fierce accidents, 
And on her purest spirits prey. 
As on entrails, joints, and limbs, 
With answerable pains, but more intense, 
Though void of corporal sense ! 

My griefs not only pain me 
As a lingering disease. 
But, finding no redress, ferment and rage ; 
Nor less than wounds immedicable 
Rankle, and fester, and gangrene, 
To black mortification. 

Thoughts, my tormentors, armed with deadly stings, 
Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts, 
Exasperate, exulcerate, and raise 
Dire inflammation, which no cooling herb 
Or medicinal liquor can assuage. 
Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp. 
Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er 
To death's benumbing opium as my only cure; 
Thence faintings, swoonings of despair. 
And sense of Heaven's desertion. 

I was his nursling once and choice delight. 
His destined from the womb, 

Promised by heavenly message twice descending. 
Under his special eye 
Abstemious I grew up and thrived amain ; 
He led me on to mightiest deeds. 
Above the nerve of mortal arm, 



SAMSON AGONISTES 435 

Against the Unciixumcised, our enemies: 

But now hath cast me off as never known, 

And to those cruel enemies, 

Whom I by his appointment had provoked, 

Left me all helpless, with the irreparable loss 

Of sight, reserved alive to be repeated 

The subject of their cruelty or scorn. 

Nor am I in the list of them that hope ; 

Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless. 

This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard, 

No long petition — speedy death. 

The close of all my miseries and the balm. 

Chor. Many are the sayings of the wise. 
In ancient and in modern books enrolled. 
Extolling patience as the truest fortitude. 
And to the bearing well of all calamities. 
All chances incident to man's frail life, 
Consolatories writ 

With studied argument, and much persuasion sought, 
Lenient of grief and anxious thought. 
But with the afflicted in his pangs their sound 
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune 
Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint, 
Unless he feel within 
Some source of consolation from above, 
Secret refreshings that repair his strength 
And fainting spirits uphold. 

God of our fathers ! what is Man, 
That thou towards him with hand so various — 
Or might I say contrarious ? — 

Temper'st thy providence through his short course: 
Not evenly, as thou rul'st 

The angelic orders, and inferior creatures mute. 
Irrational and brute? 
Nor do I name of men the common rout. 
That, wandering loose about, 
Grow up and perish as the summer fly, 
Heads without name, no more remembered; 
But such as thou hast solemnly elected. 
With gifts and graces eminently adorned. 



436 JOHN MILTON 

To some great work, thy glory, 

And people's safety, which in part tliey effect. 

Yet toward these, thus dignified, thou oft. 

Amidst their highth of noon, 

Changest thy countenance and thy hand, with no 

regard 
Of highest favours past 
From thee on them, or them to thee of service. 

Nor only dost degrade them, or remit 
To life obscured, which were a fair dismission, 
But throw'st them lower than thou didst exalt them 

high- 
Unseemly falls in human eye, 
Too grievous for the trespass or omission ; 
Oft leav'st them to the hostile sword 
Of heathen and profane, their carcasses 
To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived, 
Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, 
And condemnation of the ungrateful multitude. 
If these they scape, perhaps in poverty 
With sickness and disease thou bow'st them down, 
Painful diseases and deformed. 
In crude old age ; 

Though not disordinate, yet causeless suffering 
The punishment of dissolute days. In fine, 
Just or unjust alike seem miserable. 
For oft alike both come to evil end. 

So deal not with this once thy glorious Champion, 
The image of thy strength, and mighty minister. 
What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already ! 
Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn 
His labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end. 

But who is this? what thing of sea or land — 
Female of sex it seems — 
That, so bedecked, ornate, and gay, 
Comes this way sailing. 
Like a stately ship 
Of Tarsus, bound for the isles 
Of Javan or Gadire, 
With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, 



SAMSON AGONISTES 437 

Sails filled, and streamers waving. 
Courted by all the winds that hold them play ; 
An amber scent of odorous perfume 
Her harbinger, a damsel train behind? 
Some rich Philistian matron she may seem; 
And now, at nearer view, no other certain 
Than Dalila thy wife. 

Sams. My wife ! my traitress ! let her not come near 
me. 

Chor. Yet on she moves; now stands and eyes thee 
fixed, 
About to have spoke; but now, with head declined, 
Like a fair flower surcharged with dew, she weeps, 
And words addressed seem into tears dissolved, 
Wetting the borders of her silken veil. 
But now again she makes address to speak. 

Dal. With doubtful feet and wavering resolution 
I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson ; 
Which to have merited, without excuse, 
I cannot but acknowledge. Yet, if tears 
May expiate (though the fact more evil drew 
In the perverse event than I foresaw). 
My penance hath not slackened, though my pardon 
No way assured. But conjugal affection, 
Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt, 
Hath led me on, desirous to behold 
Once more thy face, and know of thy estate, 
H aught in my ability may serve 
To lighten what thou suffer'st, and appease 
Thy mind with what amends is in my power — 
Though late, yet in some part to riecompcnse 
My rash but more unfortunate misdeed. 

Sams. Out, out, Hy?ena ! These are thy wonted arts, 
And arts of every woman false like thee — 
To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray ; 
Then, as repentant, to submit, beseech, 
And reconcilement move with feigned remorse, 
Confess, and promise wonders in her change — 
Not truly penitent, but chief to try 
Her husband, how far urged his patience bears, 

BB lie IV 



438 JOHN MILTON 

1 1 is viiiiK' or weakness which way to assail: 
riu'ii, with more cautious and instructed skill, 
Aijfain transj^resses, and ngalu suliinits; 
That wisest and hest men, full oft hcmiiled, 
With tjoodness principled not to reject 
The ])cnitent, hut ever to forgive, 
/Vre ilravvn to wear out niiserahle days, 
luitanji'led with a poisonous hosoni-snake. 
If not hy «puck destruction soon cut off. 
As I hy thcc, to aj^es an example. 

Dal. Yet hear me, Samson; nt)t that 1 endeavour 
To lessen or exteiui.ite mv offence, 
I'ltit that, on the other side, if it he weij^lied 
\\y itself, with as^i^ravations not surchars^ed, 
Or else with just allowance counterpoised, 
I may, if possihle. thy partlon find 
The easier towards me, or thy hatred less 
First grant inj;, as I (.\o, it was a weakness 
In me, ' 'eni to all our sex, 

Curiosi ^isitivi-, importune' 

Of secret., ihen with like infirmity 
To publish them — both conin^on female faults — 
Wa? it not weakness al&o to make known 
For iniii->rtunity. that is for naught, 
Wherein ci. : isted all thy streng'di and ' 

To what 1 tlid thou sl!<\\'i:-^l mc hrsi t' 
Hut 1 to enemies rev. i .should i" 

Nor shonld'st thou have . ' '''H ;' -^ 

Fre I to thee, thon to i li\ >. ' 
1 .el weakness, then, with ueakn. 
So near related, or the same of kind ; 
Thine forgive mine, that men may ccnsm 
The gentler, if severely thou exact not 
TVlore strength from me than in thyself was found. 
And what if love, which thon interpret'st hate. 
The jealottsy of love, powerful of sway 
In human hearts, nor less in mine towards ihee. 
Caused what I did? I saw thee mutable 
Of fancy; feared lest one day thou would'st 'eave mc 
As her at Timna; sought hy all means, thcr.'fore, 



SAMSON AGONISTES 439 

TTow to endear, and hold lliee to me rnincst: 

No heller way I saw tlian by imporluiiiiij^ 

To learn tliy secrets, };et into my power 

'l"hy key of strenj^tli and safety. I'lioii wilt say, 

" Wliy, then, revealed?" ! was assnred hy those 

Who tcnii)ted nie that nothinff was designed 

Against thcc hut safe custody and IkjKI. 

That made for ine ; I knew that liberty 

Would draw thee forth to jjcrilous enterprises, 

While 1 at home sat full of cares and fears, 

Wailing thy absence in my widowed bed; 

Here I should still enjoy thee, day ami in'ght. 

Mine and love's prisoner, not the rinlislines', 

Whole to myself, uidiazarded abroad. 

Fearless at home (jf partners in my love. 

'I'hese reasons in l.ove's law have passed for g<iod, 

Though fond and reasonless to some jierhaps; 

And love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much woe, 

Yet always pity or pardon halh obtained. 

He not inilike all others, not austere 

As thou art strong, inflexible as steel. 

If thou in strength all uKjrtals dost exceed, 

In unconipassionate anger do not so. 

Sams. How cunningly the Sorceress displays 
Her own transgressions, to upbraid me nu"ne ! 
That malice, not repentance, brought thee hither 
Ry this appears. I gave, thou say'st, the example, 
I led the way — bitter reproach, but true ; 
I to myself was false ere thou to me. 
Such i)anlon, therefore, as I give my folly 
Take to thy wicked (\cc(\ ; which when thou seest 
Impartial, self-severe, inexorable, 
Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather 
Confess it feigned. Weakness is thy excuse. 
And I believe it — weakness tf) resist 
I'hilistian gold If weakness may excuse. 
What murthcrer, what traitor, parricide. 
Incestuous, sacrilegi(jus, but may plead it? 
All wicke<lness is weakness; that plea, therefore, 
With CJod (jr Man will gain thee no remission. 



440 JOHN MILTON 

But love constrained thee ! Call it furious rage 

To satisfy thy lust. Love seeks to have love; 

My love how could'st thou hope, who took'st the way 

To raise in me inexpiable hate, 

Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betrayed? 

In vain thou striv'st to cover shame with shame, 

Or by evasions thy crime uncover'st more. 

Dal. Since thou determin'st weakness for no plea 
In man or woman, though to thy own condemning, 
Hear what assaults I had, what snares besides. 
What sieges girt me round, ere I consented ; 
Which might have awed the best-resolved of men, 
The constantest, to have yielded without blame. 
It was not gold, as to my charge thou lay'st. 
That wrought with nie. Thou know'st the Magistrates 
And Princes of my country came in person. 
Solicited, commanded, threatened, urged. 
Adjured by all the bonds of civil duty 
And of religion^pressed how just it was. 
How honourable, how glorious, to entrap 
A common enemy, who had destroyed 
Such numbers of our nation : and the Priest 
Was not behind, but ever at my ear. 
Preaching how meritorious with the gods 
It would be to ensnare an irreligious 
Dishonourer of Dagon. What had I 
To oppose against such powerful arguments? 
Only my love of thee held long debate, 
And combated in silence all these reasons 
With hard contest. At length, that grounded maxim. 
So rife and celebrated in the mouths 
Of wisest men, that to the public good 
Private respects must yield, with grave authority 
Took full possession of me, and prevailed ; 
Virtue, as I thought, truth, duty, so enjoining. 

Sams. I thought where all thy circling wiles would 
end — 
In feigned religion, smooth hypocrisy ! 
But, had thy love, still odiously pretended, 
Been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught thee 



SAMSON AGONISTES 441 

Far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds. 

I, before all the daughters of my tribe 

And of my nation, chose thee from among 

My enemies, loved thee, as too well thou knew'st; 

Too well ; unbosomed all my secrets to thee. 

Not out of levity, but overpowered 

By thy request, who could deny thee nothing; 

Yet now am judged an enemy. Why, then. 

Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband — 

Then, as since then, thy country's foe professed ? 

Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave 

Parents and country; nor was I their subject. 

Nor under their protection, but my own ; 

Thou mine, not theirs. If aught against my life 

Thy country sought of thee, it sought unjustly, 

Against the law of nature, law of nations ; 

No more thy country, but an impious crew 

Of men conspiring to uphold their state 

By worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends 

For which our country is a name so dear ; 

Not therefore to be obeyed. But zeal moved thee ; 

To please thy gods thou didst it ! Gods unable 

To acquit themselves and prosecute their foes 

But by ungodly deeds, the contradiction 

Of their o\yn deity, Gods cannot be — 

Less therefore to be pleased, obeyed, or feared. 

These false pretexts and varnished colours failing. 

Bare in thy guilt, how foul must thou appear ! 

Dal. In argument with men a woman ever 
Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. 

Sams. For want of words, no doubt, or lack of breath ! 
Witness when I was worried with thy peals. 

Dal. I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistaken 
In what I thought would have succeeded best. 
Let me ol)tain forgiveness, of thee Samson ; 
Afford me place to shew what recompense 
Towards thee I intend for what I have misdone, 
Misguided. Only what remains past cure 
Bear not too sensibly, nor still insist 
To afflict thyself in vain. Though sight be lost, 



442 .10HN Ml I. TON 

Life yet hath many solaces. onjoviHl 

Whore other senses want not their ileUj^hts — 

At lunue. in loisnre and ilonieslic ease. 

Exempt trojn many a eare aiul ehaiue to whieh 

Eyesight exposes, daily, men ahroad, 

I to the Lords will intercede, not donbting 

Their favonrahle ear. that I tnay fetch thee 

From forth this loathsmne prison-honse. to ahide 

With mo. where my redoubled love anil care. 

With luirsing dilii^once, to me glad olVice. 

May ever tend about thee to old age. 

With all things grateful cheeroil. and so supplied 

That what hy me thou hast lost thou least slialt miss. 

^(/»Kv. No. no; of my condition take no care; 
It fits not; thou auil 1 lotig since are twain; 
Nor think me so unwary or accursed 
Til bring mv feet again into the snare 
Where once 1 have been caught. 1 know ihv trains. 
Though dearly to my cost, thy gii\s. and tiiils. 
Thy fair enchanted cup, and warbling charnts. 
No more on me have power; their force is nulled; 
So nmch of adder's wisdom I have learned. 
To fence my e;ir ag-ainst thy sorceries. 
If in my tlower of youth and strength, when nil men 
I.oved. honmired. feared me. thou alone <:o\\\i] hate me. 
Thy husband, slight me. sell me. and forgo me. 
How would'st thou use mo now. blind, and thorehy 
Deceivable. in most things as a child 
Helpless, thence easily contonmed and scorned. 
Ami last noglecteil ! How would'st thou insult. 
When I must live uxorious to thy will 
In perfet thraldom! how again betray me. 
Bearing my words and doings to the lords 
To gloss upon. and. censuring, ft own or smile ! 
This gaol I count the house of Liberty 
To thine, whoso doors my feet shall never enter. 

Dal. Lot me approach at least, and touch thy hand. 

Sams. Not for thy life, lost t'lerce remembrance w ake 
My sudden rage to tear thee joint hy joint. 
At distance I forgive thee; go with that; 



SAMSON AGONIST KS 443 

Hcvvail thy fa]s<;hoofI, and th'.- i»ious works 
It hath brought forth to make thee; riicmf^rable 
Amrin;( illustrious wor/u.ii, faithful wives; 
Cherish thy hasteiie'l wi^lowhood with the ^<j]<\ 
( )i riialrirrionial treason : so farewell. 

fJnl. I sec thou art irnplacahle, more fhaf 
To prayers than winfls Hn<] seas. Yet winrls to seas 
Arc rcconcilcfl at length, and sea to shore: 
Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages, 
Kternal tempest never to be calmed. 
Why do f humble thus myself, and, suing 
I'or peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate, 
liid go with evil omen, and the brand 
( )i infamy uijon my name rlenounced ? 
'I'o mix with thy concernments T desist 
Henceforth, nor too much disajijirove my own. 
Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed, 
And with contrary blast proclaims most der-ds; 
On both his wings, one black, the other white, 
liears greatest names in his wild aerie flight. 
My name, perhaps, amr^ng the Circumcised 
In iJan, in Jurlah, anrl the l>ordering TriU.-s, 
To all posterity may stand dfrfamed. 
With malediction mentioned, and the blot 
Of falsehood mo.st unconjugal traduced. 
Hut in my country, where I most desire, 
In Ecron, Gaza, Asdrxl, and in Gath, 
I shall be named among the famouscst 
()i women, sung at solemn festivals. 
Living and dead recorded, who, to save 
Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose 
AIkjvc the faith of wedlock bands ; my tomb 
With odours visited and annual flowers; 
Not less renowned than in Mount Ephraim 
Jael, who, with inhospitable guile. 
Smote Sisera sleejiing, through the temples naile/1, 
N'or shall I count it heinous lo crnjoy 
The public marks of honour and reward 
Conferred upon me for the piety 
Which to my country I was judpfed to have shewn. 



444 JOHN MII/rON 

At this whoever envies or repines, 
1 leave him his lot. and like niv own. 

Clior. She's gone — a manifesl Serpent hy her sting 
Diseovered in the end. till now eoneealed. 

Sams. So let her go. God sent her to dehase nie. 
And ;iggravale niv folly, who eomniilted 
'To such a viper his most saered trust 
Of seereey, my safety, and my life. 

Char. Yet heanty, though injm-ious, hath strange 
jiower, 
After oiTenee returning, to regain 
Love onee possessed, nor can he easily 
Repidsed, without nuich inward passion felt, 
And secret sting of amorous remorse. 

Sams. Love-(piarrels oft in j)leasing concord end; 
Not wedlock-treachery endangering life. 

Char. Tt is not virtue, wisdom. \:ilour. wit, 
Strength, comeliness of shape, or ami)lest merit. 
That woman's love can win, or long inherit ; 
l)Ut what it is, hard is fo say. 
Harder to hit. 

Which way soi>\er men refer it. 
( Much like thy riddle, Samson) in one day 
Or seven (hough one should musing sit. 

If any of these, or all, the Tinmian hridc 
TTad not so soon preferred 
Thy Paranymph, worthless to thee comparetl, 
Successor in thy hed. 
Nor hoth so looselv disallied 
Their nuptials, nor this last so treacherously 
ll.id shorn the f.atal harvest of thy head. 
Is it for that such oul\\;ird ornament 
Was lavished on their sex, th.at inward gifts 
Were left for haste mifmished. judgment scant. 
Capacity not raised to .apprehend 
(^r value what is hest. 

In choice, hiil nflcsl to affect the wrong? 
Or was too much of self love mixed, 
(^i constancy no root infixed. 
That either thev lo\e nolhiu''. or not lonir? 



SAMSON AGONISTRS 445 

Whate'cr it ho. to wisest iiu'ii and host, 

Soemiiig at first all hoavoiily uiiilor virf;iii veil, 

Soft, niodost, nicok, doimiro, 

Once joinod, the contrary she proves- a I horn 

Intestine, far within defensive arms 

A cleavinLj niischii-f, in Ins way to virtne 

Adverse and turhulent ; or hy her charms 

I )raws him awry, enslaved 

Willi dotap^e, and his sense dcjiraviMl 

'i'o folly and shaniefn] deeds, which ruin ends. 

VVIi;it pilot so expert hut needs must wreck, 

lunharked with such a steers-mate at the lu'lni? 

Ivivoured of Heaven who finds 
One virtuous, rarely found, 
That in domestic fj;ood eonihines ! 

ilappy that house! his way to peace is smooth: 

r.ut virtue which hreaks Ihroutjh all opposition. 
And all tem])talion can remove, 

Most shines antl most is acceplahle ahovo. 

Therefore God's universal law 
Gave to the man despotic power 
Over his female in i\uc awe, 
Nor from that rip^ht to ])art an hour, 
.Smile she or lour : 
So shall he least confusion draw 
On his whole life, not swayed 
Piy female usur])ation, nor dismayed. 
lUit had we host retire? 1 see a storm. 
Sams. Fair days have oft conlr;icl('(l wiml and rain. 
Clior. IWil this another kind of ti'iupcsl hrini^s. 
Sams. l!o less ahstruse ; my riddiinj.; days arc ]);ist. 
Clior. Look now for no inchanliiif^ voice, nor fear 
The hait of honeyed words; a ronujher tongue 
Draws hitherward; T know him hy his stride, 
The j^iant llarapha of (lalh, his look 
Haughty, as is his pile high-huilt and |)roud. 
Comes he in peace? What wind hath hlown him hilliei 
I less conjecture than when first I saw 
The smnptuous Dalila floating this way: 
His h.ihit carries peace, his hrow donaiiee. 



446 JOHN MILTON 

Sams. Or peace or not. alike to me he comes. 

Chor. His fraught we soon shall know : he now arrives. 

Har. I come not, Samson, to condole thy chance, 
As these perhaps, yet wish it had not been, 
Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath; 
Men call me Harapha, of stock renowned 
As Og, or Anak, and the Emims old 
That Kiriathaim held. Thou know'st me now, 
If thou at all art known. Much I have heard 
Of thy prodigious might and feats performed. 
Incredible to me, in this displeased. 
That I w'as never present on the place 
Of those encounters, where we might have tried 
Each other's force in camp or listed field ; 
And now am come to see of whom such noise 
Hath walked about, and each limb to survey, 
H thy appearance answer loud report. 

Sams. The way to know were not to see, but taste. 

Har. Dost thou already single me? I thought 
Gyves and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortune 
Had brought me to the field where thou art famed 
To have wrought such wonders with an ass's jaw! 
I should have forced thee soon with other arms. 
Or left thy carcass where the ass lay thrown ; 
So had the glory of prowess been recovered 
To Palestine, won by a Philistine 
From the tmforeskinncd race, of whom thou liear'st 
The highest name for valiant acts. That honour. 
Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, 
I lose, prevented by thy e3'es put out. 

Sa)ns. Boast not of what thou would'st have done, 
but do 
What then thou would'st ; thou seest it in thy hand. 

Har. To combat with a blind man I disdain. 
And thou hast need much washing to be touched. 

Sams. Such usage as your honourable Lords 
Afford me, assassinated and betrayed ; 
Who durst not with their whole united powers 
In fight withstand me single and unarmed. 
Nor in the house with chamber-ambushes 



SAMSON AGONISTES 447 

Close-banded durst attack me, no, not sleeping, 
Till they had hired a woman with their gold, 
Breaking her marriage-faith, to circumvent me. 
Therefore, without feign'd shifts, let be assigned 
Some narrow place enclosed, where sight may give 

thee, 
Or rather flight, no great advantage on me; 
Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmet 
And brigandine of brass, thy broad habergeon, 
Vant-brass and greaves and gauntlet ; add thy sjiear, 
A weaver's beam, and seven-times-folded shield : 
I only with an oaken staff will meet thee, 
And raise such outcries on thy clattered iron. 
Which long shall not withhold me from thy head, 
That in a little time, while breath remains thee, 
Thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath, to boast 
Again in safety what thou would'st have done 
To Samson, but shalt never see Gath more. 

Har. Thou durst not thus disparage glorious arms 
Which greatest heroes have in battel worn. 
Their ornament and safety, had not spells 
And black inchantmcnts, some magician's art. 
Armed thee or charmed thee strong, which thou from 

Heaven 
Feign'dst at thy birth was given thee in thy hair, 
Where strength can least abide, though all thy hairs 
Were bristles ranged like those that ridge the back 
Of chafed wild boars or ruffled porcupines. 

Sams. T know no sjjells, use no forbidden arts; 
My trust is in the Living God, who gave me, 
At my nativity, this strength, diffused 
No less through all my sinews, joints, and bones. 
Than thine, while I preserved these locks unshorn, 
The pledge of my unviolated vow. 
For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy god, 
Go to his temple, invocate his aid 
With solcmnest devotion, spread before him 
How highly it concerns his glory now 
To frustrate and dissolve these magic spells, 
Which I to be the power of Israel's God 



•14S J()HN MILTON 

Avow, atul ohalloujio Oaj^on to \hv losl, 
C^HYorin-; to oiMiihat thoi\ hi.>; l"h;\inpioii bi>UI, 
\\ iili tlio utmost ol his i^i-nllioad soooudod : 
Thou iluni shall soo, or lalhor to thy sorrow 
Soon fool, whoso lliul is stroiis^ost. thiuo ov mino. 

//(jr. rrosmno not on thy Tiod. \\ hato\ r ho ho, 
Thoo ho fos;ai\ls not. owns nol, hath out otV 
lJ»uito \ron\ his pooplo, atul dolivoroil up 
lnt(» thy ot\omios" hand; porntittoil tliom 
To ptit out both thiuo oyos. ami fottoroil soml thoo 
Into the ooininon ju-ison. tlioro to ji'riiul 
Anions the slaves atul as.sos. thy oounados. 
As j;ootl for nothittq- olso. no hotter sorvioo 
With tho.so thy boisterous looks; no worthy ui;Uoli 
For valiMU- to assail, nor by the sword 
(."){ luible warrior, so to stain his lioiunu". 
l^nt by the barber's razor best subduovl. 

Sams. All those indis;"t\itios, for snob thov are 
From thiiu\ these evils 1 deserve and more. 
Aektunvledjie thetn from (uhI intlieteil on me 
Justly, yet despair not of his final pardoti. 
Whose ear is ever open, and his eye 
Graeions to re-ailmii the suppliant ; 
In oouiuletu'o whereof 1 imoe again 
Pofy thee to the trial of nuMtal li.s^bt. 
By vHMubat to deoido whose j^od is (.uid. 
Thine, or whom I with Israel's sons adore. 

77(Jr. F^ur hoi\our that thou di^st thy (.uvl. in trnstiui^ 
Tie will aeoopt thee to defeiul his oauso. 
A i\mrtheror. a rovolter. atul a robber ! 

Soots. Ton_s;-uo-donj;hty _i;i;tnt, how ilost tlunt prove 
me these? 

//.jr. Ts not thy natiiMi snbjeot to our Lords? 
Their maj;istrates oonfessoil it when they took thee 
As a lea.que-breaker. atul delivered bomul 
Into our hands; for hadst thou lu^t oommitted 
Notorious munler ot\ those thirty men 
At Asoalou. who never did thee harm. 
Thou, like a robber. strippMst them of thoir robes? 
The Fhilistinos. whoi\ thou hadst broke the loai;iu\ 



SAMSON AGONISTES 449 

Wont up wiili armed p(jwcrs thee only sccHing, 
'I'o others did no violence nor spoil. 

Sams. Anionj^ the 'laughters of the Philistines 
I chose a wife, which argued me no foe, 
.And in your city lif;Id my nuptial feast; 
IJut your ill-meainng ]>olitician lords, 
Under pretence of briflal friends and guests, 
Appointed to await me thirty si)ies, 
Who, threatening cruel death, constrainefl the hridc 
To wring from mc, and tell to them, my secret, 
That solvcfl the riddle which I had proposed. 
When I perceived all set on enmity, 
As on my enemies, wherever chanced, 
I uscfl hostility, anrl took their spoil, 
To pay my underminers in their coin. 
My nation was suhjected to your lords ! 
It was the force of conf|uest; force with force 
Is well ejected when the conquered can. 
I'.ut I, a private person, whom my country 
As a league-breaker gave up hound, presumed 
Single rehellion, and did hostile acts! 
I was no private, hut a person raised. 
With strength sufficient, anrl command from Heaven, • 
To free my country. If their servile minds 
Mc, their Deliverer sent, would not receive, 
liut to their masters gave me up for nought, 
The unworthicr they ; whence to this day they serve. 
I was to do my part from Heaven assigned. 
And had performed it if my known offence 
Had not disabled mc, not all your force. 
Tlu-se shifts refut(.-d, answer thy ai^jiellant. 
Though by his blindness maimed for high attempts, 
Who now defies thee thrice to single fight, 
As a petty enterprise of small enforce. 

Har. With thee, a man condemned, a slave enrolled, 
Due by the law to capital punishment? 
To fight with thee no man of arms will deign. 

Sams. Cam'st thou for this, vain boaster, to sur- 
vey me, 
To descant on my strength, and give thy verdit? 



450 JOHN Mii;rt)N 

(."timr uoatcr; part not luiui,- sd .slit;lit itifdniiod ; 
r.iit l.ik(." i\ooi\ lucil my li.iiul survoy nol lluo. 

Jhir. () Uaal /.oinili ! can my cars uiuiscil 
Ih^ar tlioso ilislumoms, aiul iu)t rciuli-r doalli? 

Sams. No man willilmKls thro; notliiii;; I'idiu thy 
liaml 
I'^oar 1 incurable; hrini;- up tliy van; 
IMv horls aro frtloml, but my list is froo. 

//((/. riiis insiilcm.H' i>tlKT Uiiul of answor fits. 

Sams, do, ballU'il c-owaril, li'Sl 1 run upon tboi', 
Thiiuj^h in (Ik'so i.-liaiiis, bulk willioul spiiil \ast. 
Ami willi oiu- bulirt lay thy structure low. 
Oi swiiii; lluc in the air, then ilash thee down, 
I'o the hazard of thy brains and shattered siiles. 

//(//■. r>y Astaroth. ere Uiui;' Ihou shall lament 
These braveries, in irons loailen on tlue. 

Clior. llis (liantsbip is j;one somewhal erest lalleii, 
Slalkim: with less unconscionable slriiles, 
Aiid lower looks. biU in a sultry chafe. 

Sains. I ilread bim not. nor all his j;iant brood, 
'rbouj;h fame divuli;e bim f.itber of live sous. 
All of j;ij;anlic si/e, (.ioliali chief. 

Clwr. lie will ilireetly to the Uuds, I fear. 
.■\nd with ni.ilicious counsel stir them up 
Some w.iv or itther yet further to alllict thee. 

SiHiis. lie nuisl allege some cause, and olTered li^bt 
\\ ill not dare metition. lest a question rise 
W hetlur be ilurst accept the olYer or not; 
And ih.n be durst not plain enous;b appearetl. 
Much more allliction than already folt 
They camuH well impose, nor I sustain. 
If they intend advantai^e of my labours. 
The work of many bamls, which earns my keeping. 
Willi no small profit daily to my owners. 
r>ut come what will; niy deadliest fiu^ will prove 
My speediest friend, by death to rid me hence; 
Tlie wiirst that be can give to me the best. 
\'et so il m.iy f.iH out. because their end 
Is bate, \\o[ belji to me, it may witb mine 
Draw their own ruin who attempt the deed. 



SAMSON A(;(>NfSTKS 451 

Char. O, Iiow comely it is, and how rcvivinj; 
To the spirits of just men lonj^ o|)])rcssefI, 
WIu'ii (iod into the hands of tlicir ddivc-rcr 
J'uls iiiviiicihic iiii^ht, 

To (juell the mij^lily of tiie eartli, the ojipressor, 
'I lie hrnti: and Ixiislcrous ffjrce (jf vicjleiit men, 
Hardy and industrious to support 
'i'yrannic power, hut rajijinj^ Ui pursue 
The- rij^dileous, and all such as honour truth I 
lie all their anmiunition 
And feats of war defeats, 
With plain heroic majjjnitude of minfl 
And celestial vigour armed; 
'j'licir armouries and maj^azins cr>ntenms, 
Renders them useless, while 
With winj^u'd cxijcdilion 
Swift as the lij^htnin}; },dance he executes 
His errand on the wicked, who, surpriserl. 
Lose their defence, distracted and amazefl, 

I3ut patience is more oft the exercise 
Of saints, the trial of their fortitude. 
Making' them each his own deliverer, 
And victor over all 
'I'hat tyranny or fortune can inflict. 
Kither of these is in thy lot, 
Samson, with mij^ht endued 
Ahove the sons of tiien ; hut sij^ht hereaved 
May chance to nmiiher thee with those 
Whom Patience finally must crown. 

'i'his Idol's day hath been to thee no day of rest, 
Lahourinf,' thy mind 
More than the workinfj; day thy haiuls. 
Anrl yet, perhaps, more trouble is behind; 
I''r)r I descry this way 
Some other tendinj^; in his hand 
A sceptre or quaint staff he hears. 
Comes on amain, speed in his look, 
Ry his habit I discern him now 
A f)ul)h'c officer, and now at hand. 
His message will be short and voIuIjIc. 



452 JOHN MILTON 

Off. Ebrews, the prisoner Samson here I seek. 

Chor. His manacles remark him ; there he sits. 

Off. Samson, to thee our Lords thus bid me say : 
This day to Dagon is a solemn feast, 
With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games ; 
Thy strength they know surpassing human rate, 
And now some public proof thereof require 
To honour this great feast, and great assembly. 
Rise, therefore, with all speed, and come along, 
Where I will see thee heartened and fresh clad, 
To appear as fits before the illustrious Lords. 

Sams. Thou know'st I am an Ebrew ; therefore 
tell them 
Our law forbids at their religious rites 
My presence ; for that cause I cannot come. 

Off. This answer, be assured, will not content them. 

Sams. Have they not sword-players, and every sort 
Of gymnic artists, wrestlers, riders, runners. 
Jugglers and dancers, antics, mummers, mimics, 
But they must pick me out, with shackles tired. 
And over-laboured at their public mill. 
To make them sport with blind activity ? 
Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels, 
On my refusal, to distress me more. 
Or make a game of my calamities ? 
Return the way thou cam'st ; I will not come. 

Off. Regard thyself; this will offend them highly. 

Sams. Myself ! my conscience, and internal peace. 
Can they think me so broken, so debased 
With corporal servitude, that my mind ever 
Will condescend to such absurd commands? 
Although their drudge, to be their fool or jester. 
And, in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief. 
To shew them feats, and play before their god — 
The worst of all indignities, yet on me 
Joined with extreme contempt ! I will not come. 

Off. My message was imposed on me with speed, 
Brooks no delay: is this thy resolution? 

Sams. So take it with what speed thy message needs. 

Off. I am sorry what this stoutness will produce. 



SAMSON AGONISTES 453 

Sams. Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow 
indeed. 

Chor. Consider, Samson; inatters now are strained 
Up to the highth, whether to hold or break. 
He's gone and who knows how he may report 
Thy words by adding fuel to the flame? 
Expect another message, more imperious, 
More lordly thundering than thou well wilt bear. 

Sams. Shall I abuse this consecrated gift 
Of strength, again returning with my hair 
After my great transgression — so requite 
Favour renewed, and add a greater sin 
By prostituting holy things to idols, 
A Nazarite, in place abominable. 
Vaunting my strength in honour to their Dagon? 
Besides how vile, contemptible, ridiculous. 
What act more execrably unclean, profane? 

Chor. Yet with this strength thou serv'st the 
Philistines, 
Idolatrous, uncircumcised, unclean. 

Sams. Not in their idol-worship, but by labour 
Honest and lawful to deserve my food 
Of those who have me in their civil power. 

Chor. Where the heart joins not, outward acts 
defile not. 

Sams. Where outward force constrains, the sen- 
tence holds : 
But who constrains me to the temple of Dagon, 
Not dragging? The Philistian Lords command: 
Commands are no constraints. If I obey them, 
I do it freely, venturing to displease 
God for the fear of Man, and Man prefer. 
Set God behind; which, in his jealousy, 
Shall never, unrcpented, find forgiveness. 
Yet that he may dispense with me, or thee. 
Present in temples at adolatrous rites 
For some important cause, thou need'st not doubt. 

Chor. How thou wilt here come off surmounts my 
reach. 

Sams. Be of good courage ; I begin to feel 

CC lie IV 



454 JOHN MILTON 

Some rousing motions in me, which dispose 
To something extraordinary my thoughts. 
I with this messenger will go along — 
Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonour 
Our Law, or stain my vow of Nazarite. 
If there be aught of presage in the mind, 
This day will be remarkable in my life 
By some great act, or of my days the last. 

Chor. In time thou hast resolved: the man returns. 

Olf. Samson, this second message from our Lords 
To thee I am bid say : Art thou our slave, 
Our captive, at the public mill our drudge, 
And dar'st thou, at our sending and command, 
Dispute thy coming? Come without delay; 
Or we shall find such engines to assail 
And hamper thee, as thou shalt come of force, 
Though thou wert firmlier fastened than a rock. 

Sams. I could be well content to try their art, 
Which to no few of them would prove pernicious; 
Yet, knowing their advantages too many. 
Because they shall not trail me through their streets 
Like a wild beast, I am content to go. 
Masters' commands come with a power resistless 
To such as owe them absolute subjection; 
And for a life who will not change his purpose? 
(So mutable are all the ways of men !) 
Yet this be sure, in nothing to comply 
Scandalous or forbidden in our Law. 

Off. I praise thy resolution. Doff these links: 
By this compliance thou wilt win the Lords 
To favour, and perhaps to set thee free. 

Sams. Brethren, farewell. Your company along 
I will not wish, lest it perhaps offend them 
To see me girt with friends ; and how the sight 
Of me, as of a common enemy, 
So dreaded once, may now exasperate them 
I know not. Lords are lordliest in their wine ; 
And the well-feasted priest then soonest fired 
With zeal, if aught religion seem concerned; 
No less the people, on their holy days, 



SAMSON AGONISTES 455 

Impetuous, insolent, unquenchable. 

Happen what may, of me expect to hear 

Nothing dishonourable, impure, unworthy 

Our God, our Law, my nation, or myself; 

The last of me or no I cannot warrant. 
Chor. Go, and the Holy One 

Of Israel be thy guide 

To what may serve his glory best, and spread his name 

Great among the Heathen round ; 

Send thee the Angel of thy birth, to stand 

Fast by thy side, who from thy father's field 

Rode up in flames after his message told 

Of thy conception, and be now a shield 

Of fire; that Spirit that first rushed on thee 

In the camp of Dan, 

Be efficacious in thee now at need ! 
For never was from Heaven imparted 
Measure of strength so great to mortal seed, 
As in thy wondrous actions hath been seen. 
But wherefore comes old Manoa in such haste 
With youthful steps ? Much livelier than erewhile 
He seems : supposing here to find his son, 
Or of him bringing to us some glad news? 

Man. Peace with you, brethren ! My inducement 
hither 
Was not at present here to find my son. 
By order of the Lords new parted hence 
To come and play before them at their feast. 
I heard all as I came ; the city rings, 
And numbers thither flock : I had no will, 
Lest I should see him forced to things unseemly. 
But that which moved my coming now was chiefly 
To give ye part with me what hope I have 
With good success to work his liberty. 

Chor. That hope would much rejoice us to partake 
With thee. Say, reverend sire; we thirst to hear. 
Man. I have attempted, one by one, the Lords, 
Either at home, or through the high street passing. 
With supplication prone and father's tears, 
To accept of ransom for my son, their prisoner. 



456 JOHN MILTON 

Some much averse I found, and wondrous harsh, 
Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite ; 
That part most reverenced Dagon and his priests: 
Others more moderate seeming, but their aim 
Private reward, for which both God and State 
They easily would set to sale : a third 
More generous far and civil, who confessed 
They had enough revenged, having reduced 
Their foe to misery beneath their fears; 
The rest was magnanimity to remit, 
If some convenient ransom were proposed. 
What noise or shout was that? It tore the sky. 

Chor. Doubtless the people shouting to behold 
Their once great dread, captive and blind before them. 
Or at some proof of strength before them shown. 

Alan. His ransom, if my whole inheritance 
May compass it, shall willingly be paid 
And numbered down. Much rather I shall choose 
To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest 
And he in that calamitous prison left. 
No, I am fixed not to part hence without him. 
For his redemption all my patrimony. 
If need be, I am ready to forgo 
And quit. Not wanting him, I shall want nothing. 

Chor. Fathers are wont to lay up for their sons; 
Thou for thy son art bent to lay out all : 
Sons wont to nurse their parents in old age; 
Thou in old age car'st how to nurse thy son, 
Made older than thy age through eye-sight lost. 

Man. It shall be my delight to tend his eyes, 
And view him sitting in his house, ennobled 
With all those high exploits by him achieved. 
And on his shoulders waving down those locks 
That of a nation armed the strength contained. 
And I persuade me God hath not permitted 
His strength again to grow up with his hair 
Garrisoned round about him like a camp 
Of faithful soldiery, were not his purpose 
To use him further yet in some great service — 
Not to sit idle with so great a gift 



SAMSON AGONISTES 457 

Useless, and thence ridiculous, about him. 

And, since his strength with eye-sight was not lost, 

God will restore him eye-sight to his strength. 

Chor. Thy hopes are not ill founded, nor seem vain, 
Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon 
Conceived, agreeable to a father's love; 
In both which we, as next, participate. 

Man. I know your friendly minds, and . . O, what noise! 
Mercy of Heaven ! what hideous noise was that ? 
Horribly loud, unlike the former shout. 

Chor. Noise call you it, or universal groan, 
As if the whole inhabitation perished? 
Blood, death, and deathful deeds, are in that noise. 
Ruin, destruction at the utmost point. 

Man. Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise. 
Oh ! it continues ; they have slain my son. 

Chor. Thy son is rather slaying them : that outcry 
From slaughter of one foe could not ascend. 

Man. Some dismal accident it needs must be. 
■ What shall we do — stay here, or run and see? 

Chor. Best keep together here, lest, running thither, 
We unawares run into danger's mouth. 
This evil on the Philistines is fallen : 
From whom could else a general cry be heard? 
The sufferers, then, will scarce molest us here ; 
From other hands we need not much to fear. 
What if, his eye-sight (for to Israel's God 
Nothing is hard) by miracle restored. 
He now be dealing dole among his foes. 
And over heaps of slaughtered walk his way? 

Man. That were a joy presumptuous to be thought 

Chor. Yet God hath wrought things as incredible . 
For his people of old; what hinders now? 

Man. He can, I know, but ckDubt to think he will ; 
Yet hope would fain subscribe, and tempts belief. 
A little stay will bring some notice hither. 

Chor. Of good or bad so great, of bad the sooner; 
For evil news rides post, while good news baits. 
And to our wish I see one hither speeding — 
An Ebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe. 



458 JOHN MILTON 

Messenger. O, whither shall I run, or which way fly 
The sight of this so horrid spectacle, 
Which erst my eyes beheld, and yet behold? 
For dire imagination still pursues me. 
But providence or instinct' of nature seems, 
Or reason, though disturbed and scarce consulted, 
To have guided me aright, I know not how. 
To thee first, reverend Manoa, and to these 
M^ countrymen, whom here I knew remaining. 
As at some distance from the place of horror. 
So in the sad event too much concerned. 

]\fan. The accident was loud, and here before thee 
With rueful cry ; yet what it was we hear not. 
No preface needs ; thou seest we long to know. 

Mess. It would burst forth ; but I recover breath, 
And sense distract, to know well what I utter. 

Man. Tell us the sum ; the circumstance defer. 

Mess. Gaza yet stands; but all her sons are fallen. 
All in a mom.ent overwhelmed and fallen. 

Man. Sad ! but thou know'st to Israelites not saddest 
The desolation of a hostile city. 

Mess. Feed on that first ; there may in grief be surfeit. 

Man. Relate by whom. 

Mess. By Samson. 

Man. That still lessens 

The sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy. 

Mess. Ah ! Manoa, I refrain too suddenly 
To utter what will come at last too soon. 
Lest evil tidings, with too rude irruption 
Hitting thy aged ear, should pierce too deep. 

Man. Suspense in news is torture ; speak them out. 

Mess. Then take the worst in brief: Samson is 
dead. 

Man. The worst indeed! O, all my hope's defeated 
To free him hence ! but Death, who sets all free, 
Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge. 
What windy joy this day had I conceived, 
Hopeful of his delivery, which now proves 
Abortive as the first-born bloom of spring 
Nipt with the lagging rear of winter's frost ! 



SAMSON AGONISTES 459 

Yet, ere I give the reins to grief, say first 
How died he ; death to life is crown or shame. 
All by him fell, thou say'st ; by whom fell he? 
What glorious hand gave Samson his death's wound ? 

Mess. Unwounded of his enemies he fell. 

Man. Wearied with slaughter, then, or how? explain. 

Mess. By his own hands. 

Mail. Self-violence! What cause 

Brought him so soon at variance with himself 
Among his foes ? 

Mess. Inevitable cause — 

At once both to destroy and be destroyed. 
The edifice, where all were met to see him, 
Upon their heads and on his own he pulled. 

Mati. O lastly over-strong against thyself ! 
A dreadful way thou took'st to thy revenge. 
More than enough we know ; but, while things yet 
Are in confusion give us, if thou canst. 
Eye-witness of what first or last was done. 
Relation more particular and distinct. 

Mess. Occasions drew me early to this city; 
And, as the gates I entered with sun-rise. 
The morning trumpets festival proclaimed 
Through each high street. Little I had dispatched. 
When all abroad was rumoured that this day 
Samson should be brought forth, to shew the people 
Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games. 
I sorrowed at his captive state, but minded 
Not to be absent at that spectacle. 
The building was a spacious theatre. 
Half round on two main pillars vaulted high, 
With seats where all the Lords, and each degree 
Of sort, might sit in order to behold ; 
The other side was open, where the throng 
On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand: 
I among these aloof obscurely stood. 
The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice 
Had filled their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine, 
When to their sports they turned. Lumediatcly 
Was Samson as a public servant brought. 



460 JOHN MILTON 

In their state livery clad : before him pipes 

And timbrels ; on each side went armed guards ; 

Both horse and foot before him and behind, 

Archers and slingers, cataphracts, and spears. 

At sight of him the people with a shout 

Rifted the air, clamouring their god with praise, 

Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall. 

He patient, but undaunted, where they led him, 

Came to the place ; and what was set before him, 

Which without help of eye might be assayed. 

To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed 

All with incredible, stupendious force, 

None daring to appear antagonist. 

At length, for intermission sake, they led him 

Between the pillars ; he his guide requested 

(For so from such as nearer stood we heard), 

As over-tired, to let him lean a while 

With both his arms on those two massy pillars, 

That to the arched roof gave main support. 

He unsuspicious led him ; which when Samson 

Felt in his arms, with head a while enclined, 

And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed, 

Or some great matter in his mind revolved : 

At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud : — 

" Hitherto, Lords, what your commands imposed 

I have performed, as reason was, obeying. 

Not without wonder or delight beheld ; 

Now, of my own accord, such other trial 

I mean to shew you of my strength yet greater 

As with amaze shall strike all who behold." 

This uttered, straining all his nerves, he bowed; 

As with the force of winds and waters pent 

When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars 

With horrible convulsion to and fro 

He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew 

The whole roof after them with burst of thunder 

Upon the heads of all who sat beneath. 

Lords, ladies^ captains, counsellors, or priests, 

Their choice nobility and flower, not only 

Of this, but each Philistian city round, 



SAMSON AGONISTES 461 

Met from all parts to solemnize this feast. 
Samson, with these inmixed, inevitably 
Pulled down the same destruction on himself; 
The vulgar only scaped, who stood without. 

Chor. O dearly bought revenge, yet glorious ! 
Living or dying thou hast fulfilled 
The work for which thou wast foretold 
To Israel, and now liest victorious 
Among thy slain self-killed; 
Not willingly, but tangled in the fold 
Of dire Necessity, whose law in death conjoined 
Thee with thy slaughtered foes, in number more 
Than all thy life had slain before. 

Scmichor. While their hearts were jocund and 
sublime. 
Drunk with idolatry, drunk with wine 
And fat regorged of bulls and goats, 
Chaunting their idol, and preferring 
Before our Living Dread, who dwells 
In Silo, his bright sanctuary, 
Among them he a spirit of phrenzy sent. 
Who hurt their minds, 
And urged them on with mad desire 
To call in haste for their destroyer. 
They, only set on sport and play, 
Unweetingly importuned 

Their own destruction to come speedy upon them. 
So fond are mortal men, 
Fallen into wrath divine, 
As their own ruin on themselves to invite. 
Insensate left, or to sense reprobate. 
And with blindness internal struck. 

Scmichor. But he, though blind of sight, 
Despised, and thought extinguished quite, 
With inward eyes illuminated. 
His fiery virtue roused 
From under ashes into sudden flame. 
And as an evening Dragon came. 
Assailant on the perched roosts 
And nests in order ranged 



462 JOHN MILTON 

Of tame villatic fowl, but as an Eagle 

His cloudless thunder bolted on their heads. 

So Virtue, given for lost, 

Depressed and overthrown, as seemed, 

Like that self-begotten bird 

In the Arabian woods embost, 

That no second knows nor third, 

And lay erewhile a holocaust, 

From out her ashy womb now teemed, 

Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most 

When most unactive deemed ; 

And, though her body die, her fame survives, 

A secular bird, ages of lives. 

Man. Come, come ; no time for lamentation now, 
Nor much more cause. Samson hath quit himself 
Like Samson, and heroicly hath finished 
A life heroic, on his enemies 

Fully revenged — hath left them years of mourning. 
And lamentation to the sons of Caphtor 
Through all Philistian bounds ; to Israel 
Honour hath left and freedom, let but them 
Find courage to lay hold on this occasion ; 
To himself and father's house eternal fame ; 
And, which is best and happiest yet, all this 
With God not parted from him, as was feared. 
But favouring and assisting to the end. 
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
Or knock the breas-t; no weakness, no contempt. 
Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair. 
And what may quiet us in a death, so noble. 
Let us go find the body where it lies 
Soaked in his enemies' blood, and from the stream 
With lavers pure, and cleansing herbs, 'wash off 
The clotted gore. I, with what speed the while 
(Gaza is not in plight to say us nay). 
Will send for all my kindred, all my friends. 
To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend, 
With silent obsequy and funeral train. 
Home to his father's house. There will I build him 
A monument, and plant it round with shade 



SAMSON AGONISTES 463 

Of laurel ever green and branching palm, 
With all his trophies hung, and acts enrolled 
In copious legend, or sweet lyric song. 
Thither shall all the valiant youth resort, 
And from his memory inflame their breasts 
To matchless valour and adventures high ; 
The virgins also shall, on feastful days, 
Visit his tomb with flowers, only bewailing 
His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice, 
From whence captivity and loss of eyes. 

Chor. All is best, though we oft doubt 
What the unsearchable dispose 
Of Highest Wisdom brings about, 
And ever best found in the close. 
Oft He seems to hide his face, 
But unexpectedly returns. 
And to his faithful Champion hath in place 
Bore witness gloriously ; whence Gaza mourns. 
And all that band them to resist 
His uncontrollable intent. 
His servants He, with new acquist 
Of true experience from this great event, 
With peace and consolation hath dismissed, 
And calm of mind, all passion spent. 



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